A Path To Explode In Flames
by Artemisdesari
Summary: Why Gabriel left Heaven, how he became Loki and what he did in between becoming a trickster god and the apocalypse that nearly happened. Elements of Gabriel/OC's, Gabriel/Kali etc. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

_Shock horror, I'm writing another fic but unlike the majority of the rest of my writing this one has nothing to do with Dean and Castiel at all (although there will be one shots and the like between times). Frankly I was disappointed that they killed Gabriel off when they did, a little piece of me may have died that day, especially since they had just presented us with this utterly wonderful character that had this marvellous backstory that I couldn't wait to explore. So I took matters into my own hands slightly and began planning this fic about six months ago. I've got little bits of paper all over the place with scenes from this on. I've got character lists and I'm researching time periods that I want to play with._

_The title is a line from Hurricane by 30 Seconds To Mars and I actually love the version of this song with Kanye West, which may have been the soundtrack for this chapter so I recommend at least looking it up on youtube. I'll also probably take liberties with just about every myth, legend and religion I come across in the course of this. I don't do it to offend, I do it because Supernatural does and if I wanted to get everything exactly right I would have to spend years in study. I'm dedicated, but I wouldn't go quite that far.  
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_**Disclaimer:** Lets face it, if they were mine things would be very different. Cas would be screwing Dean ten ways from Sunday, Gabriel would be eating chocolate and tormenting Sam with eyeball searing mental image of said action and I would be quietly imploding with joy. None of these things are happening so I have to mournfully inform you all that they are not mine and I'm merely borrowing Gabriel until Kripke and co. make me give him back. I remind them that they _killed_ Gabriel and thus that no matter what I may put him through he is still better off with me anyway.__  
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A Path To Explode In Flames.

In the beginning the angels were happy, their songs echoed through the heavens as they served their Father in ways that humanity is ill equipped to comprehend. They were the chosen and the favoured of the Lord and their love for Him knew no boundaries. Then came the news that He was to create a new life.

Then came mankind.

Of all the angels the closest bonds with others exists between Michael and Lucifer, a bond supported and nurtured by another with two of their fellow archangels, Raphael and Gabriel. Of the four Gabriel is the youngest, although years and time mean little to beings of grace and light, and over his time in the heavens he has followed his brothers and learnt from them in all ways that have ever been possible. His love for them has only ever been bested by his love for his Father and he basks in their returned adoration.

The fond indulgence of Michael, the general.

The deep esteem of Raphael, the healer.

The warm affection of Lucifer, the brightest and most beautiful of them all.

As the messenger it has always been Gabriel's duty to carry to words of their Father to those who might aid in his great works. He has been through all of Heaven taking the word of his Father to even the lowliest of angels that His word be done. It means that he is present at the announcement his Father makes to them about the creation of the humans, he is present to witness the stoic silence that befalls Michael and Raphael, and he is as witness when the light of Lucifer dims at the discovery that they will no longer be favoured above all others.

Michael waits until they are out of their Father's hearing before breaking his silence and turning to them all. He tells them that the ranks of the Host will be confused by this, that it is down to them to show unwavering support for their Father in the face of this so that the others may take comfort in knowing that the four who have seen His face bear no resentment for this sudden change.

Gabriel wonders how Michael can be so blind, but their leader does not see the agitated quiver of Lucifer's wings and the tremble of his being as their general speaks of the task that lies before them. The messenger sees it and he knows, a flash of foresight that he suspects is not entirely his own, that the Morning Star is going to do something foolish. He briefly entertains the thought that his dearest brother will disobey and as rapidly as it comes the thought is dismissed. Lucifer would surely not be so stupid.

As it turns out, Gabriel is wrong.

The Host are prepared for the announcement, having long suspected that their Father was creating something wonderful for the Earth, but they express no sense of adoration for humanity beyond that love which their Father commands them to give. It comes as no surprise to find Lucifer walking through their ranks searching for support in his distaste for mankind.

The youngest of the quartet is saddened to realise that fully a third of the Host agree with Lucifer. They agree that mankind is not to be trusted, they agree that the humans should not be loved more than the Father who gave life to all. They believe that this so called perfect creation with it's own will and freedom to chose will turn from their Father. In the depths of himself Gabriel knows that this could conceivably come to pass, but he cannot bring himself to disobey, he cannot side with his brother.

"Do you not _see_, Gabriel?" Lucifer hisses to him as they move alone through the great gardens of Heaven. "Can you not understand the deceit which lies in them?"

"I won't turn against our Father, brother," Gabriel tries to placate this brother who has taught him so much. "You're speaking of disobedience."

"I'm talking about protecting Him," there is a fire to Lucifer's being, a brightness that is not simply the brilliance of his grace and glory. "He is blind to it, but I know they will betray Him. I _love_ our Father, little brother, and I will not devote that love to this other creature."

"Those are his orders," Gabriel has never been beyond enjoying his time with his family, has always enjoyed a joke and a prank, but he would never go so far as this. He would never go so far as to disobey orders in this way. "We _all_ love Him, Lucifer, and we obey Him because we love Him. Don't tear our family apart." Lucifer stares at him for a long moment, his thoughts unfathomable. "Please, Lucifer."

"I make no promises, Gabriel," there is a genuine grief about the archangel as he speaks. "I'm sorry."

Though time has no meaning in Heaven, it is not long until the first repercussions of Lucifer's subversion of the angels are being felt. It is not long until their Father orders Michael to put an end to the Morning Star's disobedience, and it is not long until Heaven is torn apart by War. He is forced to watch, to participate, in the fighting, to harden his soul against a brother whose grace is so dear and familiar.

All around him his brethren are killing each other, for the first time angels are dying and it cracks and chips away at him. He hates to see this, hates to watch as their grace flares bright before death, as the brilliance of his home is scorched by the blackened ash of the wings of brothers. He has little choice but to fight, to add to the numbers of other angels who fall on the battle field, but he allows himself to hope that he will not be the one to challenge Lucifer.

That, as it turns out, is Michael's duty and Gabriel knows that he is not ready for this. For all that Michael has stood above all of them in the battles, for all that Michael has slain the most among Lucifer's supporters, Gabriel knows that he will not be able to turn his sword upon the Morning Star. Michael is not ready for this and the messenger appeals to his Father for aid. He begs his Father to end this even though he knows that this has all gone too far, that it can only end in the death of one or other of his brothers.

The trap is simple, so simple that he wonders and marvels at how his Father thought of it because he knows that it is not something that Lucifer would ever consider. Four horsemen, one older than even God himself, four rings, the gate to a hell unknown and a prison to hold Lucifer until Michael and the others are ready to do what needs to be done. Gabriel suspects that he will never be ready.

The battle rages for days, years, as mankind slowly grows untended by the very creatures that are fighting because of them. Michael is exhausted, Lucifer is all but defeated and both are defiant in the utter belief that their stance is the correct one. Gabriel takes a moment to tell Michael of the plan, a moment when both brothers are allowing a brief period of rest to tell Michael that there is another way out of this.

"We will _have _to kill each other one day, you know that, little brother," Michael says as he reclaims his sword, grace pulsing steadily with his confidence that now they can find a way to stop this, that once he can harden himself to it Lucifer's death will bring a true paradise for them. Gabriel knows it, understands it in a way, because neither can make their peace with the other now, too much has passed between them and too many blows have been traded. The youngest of the quartet steels himself against the pain that ripples through him at the thought of losing this brother and begins the spell that will open the gateway to this hellish place.

Hell, as it turns out, is not purely a place that his Father has created. There are others there, he can see them in the brief glimpse he gains as the path to the cage cuts through, beings who glow with a power that strings and ripples around them almost as brightly as the grace of angels shines. His curiosity is tempered only by the battle that continues between his dearest brothers. It is extinguished altogether when Lucifer screams as Michael gains the upper hand for long enough to cast him down and Gabriel weeps as the cage is sealed.

Centuries pass and mankind finds it's feet. Gabriel plays his part as the messenger well, but it feels hollow. There is little joy in Heaven now, the angels toe the line for fear of meeting the same fate that Lucifer, and later the Grigori, met. He does not like to think of the Grigori and their children, does not like to think about the fact that he was sent to kill them because they sought to chose one woman above all others and that they took vessels to do so.

He does not like to think about it because for a very long while he was tempted to do the same.

This time wandering the Earth and carrying the word of his Father has not simply brought him into contact with man, however, it has also brought him into contact with other creatures filled with darkness and Gabriel does not understand the reasoning behind their creation. He wonders if everything on this world is truly his Father's work as he has always believed.

Certainly he knows that the creatures who call themselves 'gods' were not intended in this place. He knows that they fill some dark and desperate place in the souls of mankind, a void left when God ceased to walk among them, and on more than one occasion has found himself threatened by them. Their power, however, is not something to be ignored and he finds that he almost respects their resourcefulness in the face of such fierce competition for the affections of the ever changing and fickle hearts of humanity.

He finds these powerful creatures fascinating and he sees in them a measure of potential that he knows his brethren do not see, that they are incapable of seeing. Instead his brothers, and occasionally sisters, kill those that they come across in their travels and more than once Gabriel has been forced to do the same. It is something that gradually hardens him to that horror and where the thought of death once terrified and sickened him it is now merely a measure of the natural course of things.

When he watches mankind slaughter the greatest gift that his Father could have given them, Gabriel knows that it is only a matter of time before Lucifer is freed from his cage. He has hardened himself to the taking of life, both human and inhuman, but when he thinks back on that first war, when he thinks about the Grigori and their children, he feels sickened. He cannot watch that again, cannot live through that again and he cannot _fall_.

He turns his attention to the Earth instead. He turns his thoughts to the powerful creatures that call themselves gods and wonders if there is a way that they can help him to hide from his family. He wonders if there is a way that he will be able to escape the horror of watching his brothers tear everything that he loves apart.

_Artemis_


	2. Hecate

_So I probably should have said this in the first chapter, but this whole fic is dedicated to the girls in the Guild. Panda, Punky and Sola in particular who have all encouraged me shamelessly to write this because they wanted to see a whole fic about Gabriel and Hecate after meeting my version of her briefly in Diversus. They also consoled me when, in spite of my utter adoration for Cas, my heart broke completely at the end of Hammer of the Gods. This is for you, girls!_

Chapter One: Hecate.

The first thing that Gabriel does when he descends upon the Earth is find a vessel. He will not have long, he knows, before the fragile flesh begins to disintegrate under the pressure that his grace will exert upon it and he knows that he needs to find a solution before that happens. The day has not come when the bloodlines will cross that will create vessels strong enough to hold an archangel for an extended period of time. This man, with long black hair and a coarse beard, will not last him long and as soon as he has to leave to find another body he will be discovered by his brethren.

It is a chance that he cannot afford to take and he wastes unnecessary time by wondering which of the hundreds of remaining pagans he should go to. He wastes further time by visiting a string of the wrong ones and he can feel the body dying with each thrust of his blade and flare of death that he brings. This is not the way that he wanted it to be, this is not who he wants to become. His aim, here, is to hide, not draw further attention to himself.

Whispers of his presence, however, are beginning to drift through the ranks of the lesser gods and he knows that sooner or later one of them is going to catch up with him. He has to be ready when they do. He has to have a plan. His next step, however, has to be one last attempt to talk to one of the gods before he tries to find another solution. His choice this time is somewhat more dangerous. She is known as a goddess of witchcraft and of hell, a triple personality to match the stages of the moon and a streak of protectiveness for mankind against all demons and unclean spirits.

He finds her on a cliff staring out over a sea that roils and the wind blowing her loose dark hair in a stream behind her. Her simple hunter's tunic flaps about her legs and at her booted feet two hounds, with eyes that glow red in the semi dark, growl. She half turns her head, magic snaking around her in coils of red black that seem to snap at him. The goddess does not look at him, however, before she speaks.

"So _you're_ the archangel that's got Zeus and the others all in a twist," her voice is rich, gravelly, and he has no trouble hearing her even over the whine of the wind. "I should have guessed." There is a bow in her left hand and a quiver of arrows at her hip, though her stance is casual he knows that she will not hesitate to reach for the weapon should it be needed and he dips his blade a little. "Are you here to kill me, too?"

"Not unless you try to kill me first, Hecate," he hopes that his knowledge of her name will throw her off balance but she simply laughs, the sound bitter even to his ears.

"Interesting," she breathes, turning to face him fully as her hounds get to their feet, "and you expect me to trust you?" Dark eyes skim across his borrowed face as her hair whips in front of her, framing the pale skin with a wealth of black. "Your kind and mine don't exactly get along, Messenger."

"What makes you think I'm him?" Even as the words pass between them, Gabriel knows that this is a foolish question. This goddess is strong and she has not survived in a world where witchcraft is regarded with distaste and often deadly consequences without learning how to read others, how to gather important information.

"It's amazing the things you hear," she takes a step closer and he watches as her soft boots crush the grass beneath them, the way that her foot falls lightly and confidently even as she is buffeted by the gale that surrounds them. "The warrior's sulking, the healer wallows in self pity and the brightest shining one of them all is locked in the deepest pits of Hades. That only leaves you."

"There's other archangels," he insists as she takes another step closer, the dogs at her feet baring their teeth and their resemblance to the hellhounds belonging to Lucifer's children is startling to him.

"Perhaps," her lips quirk up in a smirk, "but they wouldn't have hesitated before killing me. Which makes you the messenger and you _want_ something from us."

"And how did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion?" He questions, disturbed by her perception of him.

"You've murdered more of us in a month than any of your brethren have in millennia," her smile turns chill as she steps away from him, her hand reaching towards the arrows at her side. "Shall I name them all for you, archangel? Shall I tell you of how you slaughtered my nephew? Of Sulis? Or Ometeotl? Eshu and Bast? Set, Hathor, Diana, Hermes," the names start to come thick and fast, rattled off at such a pace as to make him flinch each time another one is uttered. "Some of them were my friends, others were my enemies, but it raises a fascinating question; why should I trust you?"

"I killed them in self defence, Hecate," it comes out a little more sharply than he intends and he watches her hand tighten a little on the bow. "If I sought to kill you, you'd already be dead."

"I'm more powerful than most of those you slaughtered," she points out with a touch of arrogance to her tone.

"Yes, and more intelligent too," he snaps. "I'm here asking for _aid_, Hecate. Please, listen to my request."

"Alright, I'll listen," she concedes, "but you play me false in this, Gabriel," she does not finish the threat, does not need to because he can see by the tenseness of her shoulders and the way that she resettles the grip of her hands that she is prepared to strike should she need to.

"I need to hide from my family," he tells her and this time he knows that he has surprised her by the way that she startles slightly, trying to hide the movement by wiping trickling rain from her pale cheeks. "All of them. I don't want any part in this fight with Lucifer that they're planning."

"They call that an apocalypse, Gabriel, and it's one of many that are supposed to happen," she points it out with a sort of glee.

"Perhaps, but I still don't want to get involved," he keeps his tone reasonable. This is as far as he has ever managed to get, it is usually at this point that his audience stops listening and starts attacking. "I need help to hide."

"So Fall," others have done it, he knows, which means that Hecate will know it too. It is not the answer that her nonchalant tone seems to imply it is.

"I can't, they'd find me again when I die." There is a fear to his voice that he knows he cannot hide and so he knows she hears it too. It seems to convince her, for the moment, that he is utterly serious.

"Very well," she relaxes her hand against the quiver at her hip, no longer waiting to attack or _be_ attacked but waiting for answers instead. "What do you propose?"

"I need a vessel," he gestures to the one decaying around his grace as they stand and threaten each other while the storm rages around them. "One that can contain me and hide me so that my brothers wouldn't recognise me if they were stood right next to me."

"What do _I_ gain if I help you?" She asks and this is something that he has not considered. Among his brethren a favour is given out of love, rarely asked for and only in a time of genuine need. He knows that for humanity it can vary and it would seem that the art of bargaining is not limited solely to demons. "Giving you this kind of aid will not make me popular."

"So we make sure they never find out," he shrugs and she shakes her head.

"That won't be enough," she trails a finger over her lips as she ponders the issue at hand, eyes narrowed in thought. "I think I know how to help you. But it _will_ cost you and I have to wonder if it's a price you will be prepared to pay."

"Name it," the certainty in his voice is a front, a lie because trepidation is slowly starting to fill him.

"Grace. I want some of your grace," he baulks at her demand, that light which fills and maintains him balling tight within at the thought of cutting some of it from him to hand to her. "I can afford to wait, I'm not the one who is falling to pieces, but I wish you luck finding someone else who will ask less of you."

As soon as she has said her piece she is gone, even the sense of her has vanished and Gabriel wonders how he is to find her again with his answer.

It is no small thing, this payment that she has asked and he is only now coming to understand how difficult it will be to cut himself off from his family. He is only now coming to understand that there will be danger for more than just him if he manages this. His grace is such an important part of him, more so than even his wings and he guards those jealously since Lucifer's fall. He wants to think that she does not know what she is asking of him. If he is honest, however, he has to admit that she knows _precisely_ what she is asking for.

The grace is important and as he stares out at the violent sea he thinks that he has come to realise why she is so insistent on it. Many of her kind have been known to bind man, and even others of their own kind, using blood and once in a body Gabriel will have that. There is more, however, because if Hecate wanted to bind him to her irrevocably against even _blood_ spells, his grace would be the key to it. He wonders if he can afford to take that risk and trust her.

He wonders more if he can afford _not_ to.

It takes him a week to come to the conclusion that if Hecate knows about the use of grace in binding others will not be far behind, and there is no way that they will not ask at least as much of him. He cannot afford to continue waiting, cannot afford to winnow his way through other so called gods and find someone willing to do this for nothing while telling his plan to ever increasing numbers. He cannot afford to slaughter more pagans in an attempt to find another to help him.

He finds her in one of her temples. More to the point _she_ finds _him_, sensing his intrusion upon land that has been consecrated in _her_ name and investigating. This time she is wearing a floor length gown of purest white, her long red black hair hanging free down her back and it is wreathed with a crown of belladonna. Her lips curl up in a smile when she sees that he is the intruder, sees the condition of his vessel and both know that he has little choice but to say 'yes' to her terms if he wishes to go ahead with this.

"How do I know I can trust you?" He says before she can greet him, before she can welcome him to her place of worship. There is no smile this time, no smirk, her dark eyes are cold as she closes the distance between them.

"I should ask you the same," she responds as she touches a hand to his cheek. He barely feels the light caress, the nerve endings in this body all but screaming in their decay all the time. His grace is burning this body through faster than he can repair it.

"How will you create a vessel for me?" He asks, grasping for time before he is forced to cut into himself, forced to mutilate that which makes him.

"I already have one in mind," there is a wistful note to her gravelled voice. "An old friend, though sometimes he's more of an enemy. So, are you willing to indebt yourself to me? Will you give me some of your grace?"

"Father," he breathes the word so softly that for a moment he does not think that she has heard it. The name is a prayer, a supplication for forgiveness and absolution of this sin he is about to commit. "Tell me what I have to do."

This time there is a smile and it is almost pitying. She reaches into the dress, drawing a tiny crystal bottle from between her breasts and handing it to him. He knows what this is for, knows that though it will take only the smallest piece of himself to fill it she expects it to be done before she will even consider taking him to the vessel that he will call his own for the foreseeable, and unforeseeable, future.

The goddess's gaze does not waver as he reaches into himself, does not falter as brilliance surrounds them, and he screams at the feeling of tearing out a part of him. She simply watches, face calm and cold, as he shakes with the effort of placing that little part of him into the vial. She watches impassively as he seals the crystal so that his grace cannot escape but there is a tremble to her hand that matches the way that he shakes when he hands it back to her.

"You really _are_ desperate," she says to him by way of thanks, examining the crystal for a moment before tucking it back inside the dress. He follows it's path, still able to feel the call of his grace until the moment that she wraps chains of her own magic around the vial to hold it in place against her pale skin.

"Why do you need it?" He asks, getting unsteadily to his feet and she does not offer to aid him, keeping her distance as though she still expects him to attack her.

"Power," she responds, "as in all things we do. You will learn, Gabriel. I'll teach you." She touches a finger to the golden serpent that encircles her right arm, red eyed with jewels that could be rubies glittering in the lamp light. "We don't have a lot of time, we need to leave now." This time she holds out her hand and her eyebrows quirk as he hesitates in taking it. "Come." It is a simple word and filled with a gentleness that he has not heard from the goddess before.

"Where?" He asks, unable to stop the questions though he knows that she would prefer obedience from him in this.

"To the place where I will uphold my part of our bargain," dark eyes meets the pale ones of his current vessel and he takes her offered hand. The feel of her magic against him is strange, dark and exciting in a way that the grace of his family is not. There is nothing soothing about it, it is the call of blood and the screams of future insanity. This is a goddess of the earth and of life and of death. This is the one to which he is entrusting his future.

He hopes that this is not a mistake.

_Artemis_


	3. Loki

_I already have pages and pages of later stuff written. The early stuff is a little slower to come. Reviews make it all better, remember! Also, long train journeys are great for writing, all of this done on the way home from a big meeting with Head Office. _

Chapter Two: Loki.

The place that Hecate takes them is significantly colder than her temple in Lagina, though the sensation is strangely disjointed now that he is no longer struggling to maintain the body that he is in. He feels a moment of pity for the man who has unknowingly given up his life so that Gabriel can hide, but then pushes it aside to focus on his companion.

Hecate has changed in the moments between Lagina and this cool realm, her once firm skin has sagged and creased, her pretty face is lined and wrinkled and she has taken on a more grey pallor. Her hair, though still long and black, is streaked through with grey and her body is twisted a little, stooped under the heavy black robe she now wears in the place of the white gown. When her eyes meet his, however, they are untouched by the apparent age of her body, brilliant, dark and utterly clear. This, he realises, is her third aspect. This is the crone.

"Remain silent," she tells him, her voice gravelled but cracked with age. "Let me do all the talking."

"Hecate?" The voice is hushed, cracked with pain and fear. Hecate tenses at the archangel's side, then moves forward and gives Gabriel his first glimpse of the room as she snaps fingers swollen with age to light the lamps that sit by a great bed.

There is no fire in this room, chill air biting through everything. The walls are thick, made of carefully fitted wood, the floor is covered in heavy bear skins that have been cured against decay. It is the dark oak bed which demands all the attention, though, a bed that holds the body of a slight man who watches them through cloudy eyes of pale gold.

"I'm here, Loki," Hecate whispers, easing her hand over his brow.

"Have you a cure for the poison?" He asks, almost desperate but mostly resigned to his fate.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I have found nothing that will save your existence that will not result in yet more agony."

"Ah," the sigh is so gentle as to be little more than a pained exhalation and Gabriel wonders why she has brought him here. He wonders what she would have him do for this being. "Then I am to die. Sigyn will be relieved."

"I did everything I could," Hecate mutters, "and there is one other option available to us. Will you hear it?" The slight figure nods and Gabriel watches, fascinated, as Hecate weaves his story to this dying being. He listens as she tells of an angel who would flee the wrath of Heaven and Hell so that he might make his own name in the universe. "He needs a body," she says finally, "and though yours is dying he can fix it and repair the damage done by the poison of the snake."

"But his presence will destroy me, old friend, I know that as well as you." Hecate closes her eyes and nods, a sad half smile on her face.

"Loki," she pauses and Gabriel gets the impression that he is watching something here that is intensely private. "You would live on in him, dear friend. I would tie your magic to his grace and you will be as one for all time." This is news to the archangel and he does not know how he feels about having the purity of his grace mixed in with the blood magic of this being. Hecate's clear eyes turn on him in that moment and he sees the message in them, the order to be silent.

"Very well," Loki gasps and the triple goddess motions Gabriel to come closer, to look down upon the creature who he will become.

His brown hair is matted with the sweat of his illness, covering the lavish pillows in tangles and snarls. His face is thickly bearded, like the faces of all the Norsemen for that is where Gabriel now knows he is, and even covered by blankets the archangel can tell that this being is not as tall as the men whose culture created him. The archangel does not understand why the creature has chosen to be so small of stature, though he suspects that it has something to do with the nature of the capricious being, but he knows that this is the last sort of body that his brothers would expect to find him in.

"We need to work quickly," Hecate says, her voice brusque. "Give me your hand, angel." Gabriel obeys, placing his left hand in hers as she lifts one of Loki's wasted arms from the bed, placing their hands together and muttering in Greek under her breath as she does so. "When I tell you to, you move yourself from that body and into Loki. Then no matter what you feel, angel, do _not_ fight me."

Gabriel nods his understanding, listening to her chant and closing the eyes of the vessel in an attempt to control the worry that is building into a slow crescendo as her voice rises and falls. Finally, after an apparent eternity, she tells him to let go of the vessel and move into Loki's body. The transfer has to be made quickly, the longer he remains outside of this body the easier it will be for his brothers to find him, but he does not unfurl himself as he makes the switch so much as he trickles from one body to the next. Loki's body, and magic, immediately starts to fight his presence and he fears that Hecate has played him false.

Her chanting continues and Loki's essence is joined by hers, tightly controlled and lacking in the wild instincts that has the trickster god thrashing against him. It all feels wrong, the darkness of their blood magic, as the power of the two gods mixes with which makes him, Hecate's essence binding the little that remains of Loki to the archangel's grace. It hurts, the darkness that seeps into the cracks in his essence and lingers there as she presses against it, and it should not be possible. He has never heard of this being done, this sort of thing being possible, but he supposes that it has to have happened in the past for Hecate to be so confident in what she is doing.

The sense of Loki is fading into the background, mingling with everything that has ever made Gabriel what he is, and abruptly he is alone in the body in a way that he has never been before. Even in the vessel there was the sense of his brethren not far away, there was the knowing that he could reach out to them and _feel_ them. Now his grace is rolling within him in a way that makes him feel vaguely nauseous and even though he knows that his brothers and sisters are still around, he cannot _feel_ them.

"I didn't think it would work," Hecate tells him and he looks at her sharply. She has a long fingered hand pressed to her temple and her eyes hold a great deal of sadness. Abruptly he feels a part of the magic she has woven into his grace reach out to her and she glares at him. "Don't do that," she snaps. "Pity is a sign of weakness, Gabriel, and Loki never displayed his weaknesses."

"I'm not Loki," he tells her, sitting up and feeling his grace working on muscles wasted by probable centuries of inaction and illness.

"You are now," her tone is matter of fact but he knows that she is grieving for the friend she has lost. "You better forget that you were ever known as Gabriel, I could have killed all of us to achieve this so don't go getting yourself caught and killed." She gets to her feet, the image of the crone melting before his eyes as she turns back into the form that he first met her in, the form of the maiden.

"Hecate," he stops her in the act of snapping herself from the room. "Were you and Loki ever," he hesitates, gropes for the right word.

"Lovers?" She queries and he nods. "No, simply friends." She moves to leave again.

"Don't leave," he says abruptly and she frowns at him. It is an odd request and now that they have both completed the terms of their bargain there is no reason for them to see one another again. Except for the first time in his existence Gabriel is alone and adrift. He does not know what to do or where to go and he does not know enough about Loki, even with the hazy presence at the back of his mind, to feel confident in pretending to be that person just yet. He is still not completely certain that he can trust this woman, goddess, but he is willing to accept that he may not have a choice.

The creature he has entrusted his existence to sighs, her eyes closing as though she is trying to force back some sort of emotion. Abruptly he realises that she has just killed her friend for a vial of grace and a favour unnamed, what she is feeling now is more likely guilt and regret than it is grief. Then she turns those dark eyes on him, the expression utterly unreadable for the first time since he met her.

"You're a fool," she tells him, settling on the bed again. "You've sought to hide among us and yet you know nothing about us." He is startled by the accuracy of her statement.

Unlike their Father, angels are not omniscient. They are aware of more than any human can be and they know a great deal about many things, but they are _not_ all knowing. Which is why Gabriel is certain that this is a good way for him to hide. Their knowledge of the pagan gods, while extensive, is also severely limited.

He would know many of them on sight, he knows the difference between a trickster and a god of love, a god of war and a healer. They are even aware of the power differences between the members of the different pantheons but the angelic awareness of the politics involved is scattered at best. All the pagans interact with one another on some level, with so many of them in the world and so much crossover they have to, but it is rare to see alliances formed with another of their kind outside of the immediate family members. He would not expect to have seen Coyote allied with Hu Ye any more than he would have been surprised to find that Artemis and Athene had made an alliance against the others.

"This is looking like an increasingly bad idea," she mumbles, conjuring a silver chain to weave through her hair as she speaks. "I can't tell you how to become Loki, all of that information is in the magic I tied to you."

"Maybe," he responds, "but it can't hurt for me to have a little companionship while I work it out." She pulls a face.

"I just killed a friend for you," the tremble of her hand betrays her emotion even though she manages to keep it from her tone.

"You put him out of his pain," Gabriel argues, "there's a difference." Hecate does not look convinced. "I'm asking you not to make his sacrifice a waste, Hecate, you owe him that much. Besides, you promised to teach me." She stiffens at his side but it seems to be the right thing to say because after a moment she relaxes a little.

"What do you want to know?"


	4. Pagan

_Holiday time! I love holiday time, even if it means that I've been spending more of it reading than writing which could always be a problem but I haven't done it in so long that I feel I'm entitled to it a little bit._

Chapter Three: Pagan.

As it turns out Hecate has a great deal to teach Gabriel and not a huge amount of time to do it in. The goddess is concerned that her actions this day will have been noticed and she is right to be. Many disagree with her freeing Loki, still more have disliked the fact that she would aid him, and this is the sort of thing that they will use to lessen her position within the ranks of her kind. This is the sort of thing that they will use to destroy her.

Gabriel is not prepared for this, she knows that now, she does not think that he had actually considered the implications of what he had planned to do. Now those consequences are crashing in on him and as much as she would rather go and mourn the loss of her friend she knows that she is going to have to guide him through this pain.

"What do you know about Loki?" She asks, looking at her hands so that she does not have to see the almost blank expression on her friend's face.

"He's one of the Norse gods," Gabriel mutters, "a trickster who got himself locked up for killing Baldur." The archangel continues but much of his knowledge is the stuff that everyone knows. The names of Loki's children; Hel, Fenrir, Jormungandr, Nari and Sleipnir, the name of his wife and his parents. He knows nothing about the Loki that Hecate knows, nothing about the personality underneath the actions.

"He _tried_ to kill Baldur," Hecate corrects after a long moment. "The humans believe he succeeded and that's probably for the best." She thinks for a moment. "Loki is a trickster, but only the jokes that backfired on him have been immortalised in song by mankind, and probably Freyja, the others are forgotten as an embarrassment. There was often a justice in his actions too.

"He was dangerous, capricious, his moods would change with the same kind of ease that he would change his shape. I only know of one strange enough to change his gender so that he could birth a six legged horse." She huffs and pauses.

"I thought he was your friend?" Gabriel responds.

"He was, but he had his faults and you need to be as aware of those as you need to be of his good points," she keeps her voice reasonable but she knows that the reason she is lingering on the bad parts of Loki's personality is so that she can keep her guilt under control. She is not meant to feel guilt. "Loki can be cruel, judgmental when it suited him, but the lessons he taught were always done with a sense of humour. Unfortunately, the pupil usually died during the course of it. He was strong and he looked at the world without that naivety that the others sometimes do.

"I think that was his undoing in the end," she muses. "He enjoyed mocking the high and the mighty so much that he took it too far. I should have stepped in, but I was involved with Coyote at the time and lost in my own amusement. I didn't hear about it until it was too late. You have to become him now and the first thing you will have to do is forget your own name."

"And the second?" The archangel asks after a moment of silent contemplation.

"I've woven darkness into you, angel," she smirks at him, "I've threaded blood and lust and pride through your grace and now you have to embrace it with all of your being. Do you think you can manage that?" Hecate watches as the realisation of what she has really done fills him, watches as he looks inside himself and sees the real damage she has done to him. She sees the horror fill the light that creates him and she smiles.

"What did you do?" He demands, moving with an enviable speed to pin her against the wall of the cabin and she chokes out a laugh when she sees the light behind amber eyes.

"Exactly what you asked me to," there is a smugness in her voice that she cannot help. "I made you into one of us, physically at least, your family will never find you." He releases her, then, seeming to struggle with the emotions that come with the little piece of Loki she has bound to him. "I can teach you, I can teach you to smile and laugh, I can teach you ancient blood rites and rules. I can show you the freedom of your own mind and your own thought unrestrained by a Father who would throw you aside for humanity."

He shifts, posture stiff in a manner that suggests that he is not quite certain how to hold himself. Hecate can see that she has a long way to go with him before he will be ready to face the others unchallenged. The goddess gestures, black dress turning into something more covering and more modest, eyes sparkling in the lamplight of the room as she sees the quizzical tilt of his head. The archangel follows her example, snaps his fingers and is startled when Loki's customary garb covers him. Heavy woolen trousers held and gartered with leather strips, two long tunics caught at the waist with a belt of leather decorated with the symbols of the god it adorns, and a heavy wool cloak against the chill of his native grounds.

"The body knows what it needs," she tells him, taking a moment to run a comb through the snarls of the god's hair so that he at least looks a little more presentable. "Our instincts are sharper than human and angel alike and the body remembers the clothes that Loki wore, just like you know it through the link you now share with him."

"But _how_?" Gabriel demands, twisting so that he can take her wrist in his hand and end the distraction she is creating.

"Does it really matter?" She asks and watches him frown as he nods. "I told you, I've tied part of Loki to you and your grace is absorbing that part. It's making Loki a central part of you and some of that is his instincts and his knowledge." She gently extracts herself from his grasp. "Let me show you," the comb vanishes and she offers him her now empty hand. "Come with me and I'll teach you how to be a god."

The place they appear together is not far from a cliff face, wind beaten and smelling strongly of brine. The nearest buildings are of simple design, wooden beams filled in with a mix of mud, dung and straw that never fails to make him wonder how humans stand it and a roof of sod that has recently been replaced. The people coming to and from the building wear simple cut clothes but in brilliant reds and blues. Their stomaches are large, the fat of the well fed, and their plump faces haughty. It is not the men and women in bright colours that draws Gabriel's attention, however, it is the people around them. These people are wearing brown clothing, tattered and filthy, thin and drawn from lack of food and their eyes ringed with bruised black from lack of good sleep. Their children are dirty, their bellies distended and she watches as something in him seems to shatter at this sight.

"This is _not_ what my Father meant for His children," he hisses and begins to step forward, angry at the suffering of these children who are the gift his Father would grant mankind.

"And what will you do?" Hecate asks, drawing her thick black cloak tighter about her against the wind though she does not really feel it. The gesture is human, designed to allow her to pass through them without suspicion when she does not wish to be noticed. It will be a shock to Gabriel realise that he will also have to learn these little movements and gestures. "Will you strike him down with holy fire and righteous vengeance?"

"Pride is a great sin," Gabriel responds and she rolls her eyes at him, "it should not be permitted to continue."

"You're thinking like an archangel," she points out.

"I _am_ an archangel," he insists and something in her hardens towards him where she had softened in the face of his confusion. Her magic begins to draw about her, dancing in tendrils of black red that reach to caress and to destroy in the same breath.

"Not any more," her hand flashes out to take hold of his chin, forcing him to look down at her and he can feel the strength in the squeeze of her fingers. She is not as strong as he is, she could never be as strong as an angel, but there is a threat to her all the same. Hecate would not go down easily and she could do a great deal of damage to him in the process. "You are _Loki_ now and you _must_ start thinking the way that he does."

"How would Loki do it?" He asks, withdrawing back into the personality of an emotionless angel in a way that she knows she will find frustrating in the future.

"He wouldn't run in there, blade drawn and announcing his presence," she releases him as she begins to make her way closer to the hall. "He would turn the pride of the lord against him, he would be discrete, he would _tear_ the man's life down around him and then, when he could sink no lower, he would kill him."

"I don't understand," Gabriel admits and she can see that it costs him to show his lack of comprehension. She can see that he does not like admitting that he is not all knowing, not aware of everything.

"Sometimes the punishment takes a matter of moments to deliver," Hecate responds, beginning to walk closer to the building and the people around it. "Sometimes it can take weeks of preparation and sometimes it can take weeks, months, for the intended to finally succumb to it, but they do."

"I would rather they know that the wrath they experience is that of an archangel, not a pagan deity with no true claim to them," there is a wistful note to Gabriel's voice and Hecate knows, without being entirely sure how, that had he still been the messenger of that more powerful God he would not have hesitated to march into that building and smite the occupants.

"Perhaps, but you must remember what you are to become," they are going around in circles, Gabriel cannot let go of his past, and she is becoming annoyed with him. "Besides, these people would recognise _Loki's_ authority as one of their gods, but Gabriel the Messenger would mean nothing to them."

"Is that why we came here? So that you can remind me that I am not to be all that which I was created to be?" His tone is heated, angry, and she can see the flashes of grace in his eyes, can feel the vial of it pulsing at her breast. She has to calm him before he draws the attention of the others. She has to calm him before he draws the attention of his own kind.

"No," she stops herself from reaching to touch him as she would have done the Loki of old, as she would have done her friend. "I brought you here to teach you to become _more_ than you were created to be. Of all of us, angel, you have the chance to adapt, to _change_ with the times as mankind grows. I would be a fool to let you stagnate and settle for a life of solitude and concealment when I can journey with you to become something greater than I already am."

Hecate has known for sometime that human kind will not remain the ignorant children that they were created. She has seen for herself how they grow and change and adapt. Her personality was formed and shaped by these creatures, these beings, even as she coalesced her form into one that they could understand and comprehend. This place has been fascinating to her since she first arrived with many of the rest of her kind, since many of them first gained awareness, it would be a shame to abandon it simply because they cannot change with the passing centuries and the tastes of their children.

"So I'm your path to immortality?" Gabriel's question draws her from her thoughts.

"Don't be foolish," and she actually laughs at him, "I'm a goddess, I'm already immortal."

"You're full of pride, lust, vanity, envy, wrath," he pauses, "is there any sin you _haven't_ committed, Hecate?" She thinks for a moment.

"It depends on your definition I suppose," she muses, "but there's very little I haven't tried at one point or another. It comes with the territory, angel, and it's going to be fun to teach it all to you," she starts off down the hill. "Coming?"

He follows, though she suspects that it is more out of an uncertainty about the way she has melded grace and blood magic together than out of any real desire to be near her. Ahead of them awaits the lord and his people and she knows that it is essential that he get this right as soon as possible. It is only a matter of time before someone notices the change and she needs him to do this so that the join of magic can be as permanent as possible before that someone comes looking. This deadly joke may be just the thing that she needs to do that, but she does not tell him. She does not tell him that if he does this wrong they both die. It is not the time for it, not with him still reeling from the truth of what she has done, not with him still confused and hurting from the loss of his family. She _will_ tell him, however, when the time is right.

_Artemis_


	5. Beginnings

_Oops, this one is a little late. Apologies to all, I've had a bit of a shocking week with work and it's been hard to write. It's terrifying how much we rely on computers for our work these days._

Chapter Four: Beginnings.

Their entrance into the hall of the lord-ling is nothing short of dramatic. They are invited in with a flare of pomp and ceremony that neither Gabriel nor his companion feel they warrant in their current incarnation. No one has asked them why they were travelling at an inhospitable time of the year, though everyone in the hall _must_ be curious, and he suspects that Hecate is the reason for this some how. Though he is aware that she is keeping an eye on him, the triple goddess has left him to talk with the lord while she conducts her own soft conversations with the women folk. Gabriel has a sneaky suspicion that she is poaching worshippers on the Norse gods territory and the part of him that is Loki thinks that he should put a stop to it.

The part of him that is still Gabriel simply does not care. Hecate can do as she will.

"I'll wager even the great halls of Asgard are not so favourably adorned as this hall," the over weight man at Gabriel's side booms, "would you not agree?"

"I have found it safer not to draw the attention of the gods," Gabriel responds, watching as Hecate rolls her eyes at him and sidesteps a pig that has wandered in from the cold. "But it's certainly well situated." He follows and listens to the man brag about how his warriors are the finest around, how his kitchens prepare the best food and his hall is the greatest for many miles. It is sickening and he aches to draw his blade and put an end to the display.

It is not what he is here to do, as Hecate's delicately arched brows remind him, and he turns his attention back on teaching this man to respect his gods. It comes to him as they are settled to dine, the large man now bragging about the finery that will grace his table, the assumption that not even the gods can eat so well and so richly flowing arrogantly out of plump lips. He is seated to the man's right, Hecate to his left, and he sees the goddess twitch at the words. She is angered by this even though the words are not directed at her or her pantheon. The man's obsession with the food, however, is the key to his humiliation and Gabriel files that away as he looks down at the haunch of beef that has been laid before him.

"Eat," Hecate whispers, her own delicate hand falling onto the pinkest part of the meat, "they expect it."

Indeed even as she says the words, he can tell that the gathered people are waiting for his verdict upon the meal that he has been offered and he takes a bites of the meat that she has settled on the wooden platter before him. Flavour explodes in his mouth and it is not something that he finds enjoyable. He has never had to eat before and he is discovering that the act of chewing and swallowing is rather more disgusting than he had expected.

The man at his side is taking rather more pleasure in it, the sounds falling from his mouth turn the archangel's stomach more than the beef does, and Gabriel has to close his eyes and school his features into something neutral rather than the distaste he is actually experiencing. The advice Hecate gave him as they were walking down the hill comes back to him. Find what the lord likes and then turn it against him, if it is tied directly to the reason the people who serve him are so mistreated so much the better. Apparently this lord-ling takes a great delight in his meats and given the starvation of the peasants around the hall for his gain, Gabriel thinks that it is only fair to take this enjoyment away.

The snap of his fingers is surreptitious, hidden under the table and muffled by the crack of a bone as it is snapped further down the way. He takes another bite from his meat as the plate next to him erupts with maggots. Hecate glances over, her eyes narrowing as the lord thrusts himself away from the table with a startled oath. Like Gabriel and the target, she can see the wriggling mass of white as it begins to attack the lump of meat on the platter. The rest of the hall, however, cannot and the mutters that follow the words are baffled. No one has mentions the gods, though, and in moments the larvae vanish to leave an untouched piece of beef and a shocked man trying to hide his bizarre reaction.

After a long moment, everything settles again and Gabriel waits for the next best moment. He watches until everyone is distracted once more with their food and then snaps again. This time _everyone_'_s_ plate erupts with maggots and only the lord-ling notices. The rest of the diners continue to eat happily. Gabriel carries on with this throughout dinner, watching as the eyes begin to bulge in the man's face, picking at his own meal with little enjoyment for the act of consuming food.

He does not like this method, he finds as he and Hecate move towards the fire at one end of the room to settle for the night with the rest of the room's occupants. It takes too long and is too anonymous. He doubts the man will work out who has targeted him and why before he dies and that annoys the archangel. His companion knows it too.

"You will come to enjoy this," she tells him softly as the gathered people start to drift to sleep. "You'll enjoy the power and the freedom," he glares at her, "you'll enjoy the anonymity that will come with this. No one has full control over us, Loki, no one tells us who to target and who not to. This man deserves it and we have _time_."

"This isn't what I had planned," he puts his arm around her as she snuggles closer and away from the people who breathe and snore about them. She is trembling and he cannot fathom why, only understands that she is clinging to him in a manner that suggests she is trying to prevent herself from making a drastic error. "I wanted a way to hide, not to slaughter my father's children."

"This is the _only_ way to hide," she whispers. He looks at her sharply. "This way when you want to right a wrong you see, no one will question the power behind it. You'll be just another god making his mark. This is a good thing."

They spend the night in meaningless chatter, the sort of thing that involves them coming to understand the nature of the things that Gabriel has left behind and the being that he is to become. He comes to realise that what he has now is all he will have, that he will have to make a new family for himself if he is to survive. He comes to see that this is a future he cannot now escape.

It takes him two weeks to teach the man not to anger his gods, two weeks to show that starvation goes both ways but madness will always result in only one thing where a leader is concerned. The lack of food does not kill the fat lord. The _people_, on the other hand, do. As it turns out, a cruel leader is something that they have to put up with, a _mad_ one is an embarrassment that must be dealt with. The man's son is kinder, wiser, and not so inclined to upset his gods. There is no satisfaction in the work, though.

Over all, Hecate is pleased with his choice. It is not the one that she would have made, and he suspects that it is not the sort of thing that Loki would have done either, but she accepts it as a beginning. It makes him realise that she is going to be encouraging him to do much of this sort of thing for a long while until she is satisfied that he will do it of his own accord. Gabriel is not surprised that she does not entirely trust him, especially given that he is still not completely positive that he should trust her.

It _is_ something of a shock, however, to realise that she spends a century with him teaching him everything she believes he needs to know, even past the point where it is really necessary. It takes him a while to realise that she is not just teaching him. She is tangling parts of her magic with his grace and the pulsing remnants of Loki's power to bind everything together more fiercely. She is sacrificing of herself for him and he does not know how to understand that. What he does realise is that through her actions she is causing him to begin feeling, _really_ feeling, in the way that the pagans do.

As an archangel he was technically supposed to be utterly emotionless, knowing only the joy and love for his Father and mankind as was proper. In truth that had never been completely accurate, particularly of the four archangels. In them could be found a range of emotion that had been both unexpected and unwelcome. They most keenly felt Lucifer's betrayal, his anger, and Gabriel knows grief and joy. These are emotions that with the presence of both Hecate and Loki's taint run deeper in him now than as a full archangel. They are primitive, vicious, consuming and he is ashamed to admit that he fears them.

Rather more enjoyable that his exploration of his emotions is the introduction of _food_ into his routine, beyond his first experience. Gabriel could sustain Loki's body indefinitely without the need for consuming vast quantities over the centuries but Hecate insists that such an action would appear suspicious. The goddess cheerfully conjures up tables of different food, laughing every time he finds something that he dislikes and nodding each time he finds something he enjoys.

As it turns out, Gabriel like grapes and strawberries, loves the way that their sweet juice explodes in his mouth when he takes a bite into the fruit, he adores cherries too, but that is more because he can spit the stones at things and the way that Hecate yelped when he caught her on the thigh with one brought a smile to his lips. Meat is almost completely off the list, the taste of it all turns his stomach a little although he finds that pork cooked in honey is something he can tolerate, and fish is not much better. His palate leans towards sweet treats, much in the same way that the palate of the maiden side of Hecate's form does, and he does not go into the incident with the human _heart_ she offered him.

Strangely, the goddess is content with his choices, does not push him to partake of human flesh as her fellows would though both know that this will one day cause them a great deal of trouble. Loki, she tells him, always had something of a sweet tooth and though the heart of a human was his favourite part, they can work around it until Gabriel reconciles himself to it.

Gabriel doubts that will ever happen, he dreads the day when he loses himself to the pagan that shifts within him so completely. Hecate seems to understand that, is patient with him though he knows that it must eat at her, and together they begin to forge a friendship. As she promised she starts to teach him how to laugh and smile. She teaches him to think with the shrewdness that his Father gave him and to use that thought for his own ends.

No pagan ever completely trusts another, not even the life mated pairs, Hecate tells him. They are too many and the more worshippers they have, the more powerful they are. This is her advantage, he realises. There will always be witches, and though many of them will turn to the demons in their quest for power, still more of them will belong to Hecate. She will always have power, she will always be strong.

He simply fails to realise just _how_ much power she has, particularly given that she has tied him to her.


	6. Blood Ritual

_Perversely, though I got this chapter done in record time and it's longer than the others, it was also harrowing for me to write, I got it done so that I could move onwards and away and it has caused me more than a few nightmares. As you can guess from the title it has to do with ritual and sacrifice. While many fic authors out there have dealt with Gabriel's past imitating Loki and his familiarity with taking part in such rituals (usually in the form of smut it has to be said) nothing I've seen has dealt with his initial reactions. No one that I've come across has dealt with the first time. When I first mapped this chapter out, several months ago, I was reluctant to include it in the published work. After much agonising, however, I feel that it is necessary as part of Gabriel's development and while it has hurt me greatly to write, and I feel no doubt that it will evoke some emotion somewhere, it is not my intention to cause harm or belittlement to any.  
_

_In light of that I post the following warning:_

_**This chapter contains scenes that some readers may find disturbing. Though the subject matter is dealt with in a manner that is congruent with the rating, I must point out that the traditional virginal sacrifice was rarely willingly lead to the altar. Please also bare in mind that in the time period in question, many women were viewed as little more than a commodity to be possessed and used and that any indication thereof is not indicative of the authors view point. I humbly request that if you feel the subject of dubious consent may cause distress or offence you skip the chapter. **  
_

Chapter Five: Blood Ritual.

Gabriel is toying with illusions, something that Lucifer taught him how to create in the early days of their existence. He likes this, an idle use of power that serves no purpose other than entertainment. Hecate has no idea that he can do this, has been putting off teaching him for one reason or another and a part of him suspects it is so she has something to hold over him, something that he needs. He cannot fathom why, does not really want to, he is not yet ready to be completely alone and her visits are increasingly welcome.

It has taken a great deal of work but he has finally succeeded in creating an illusion infused with just enough sense of damaged grace and blood magic that it looks and feels just like him. Some day he is certain he will have a use for this illusion, designed to fool even the most powerful of pagan gods for a moment, because Gabriel is positive that no matter what he and Hecate do someone, somewhere, will see through this careful disguise.

"Well isn't that _fascinating_," Hecate drawls from the door to the safe house she has stashed him in. Over the years he has found that he become more relaxed in her presence, that with the gradual unfurling of his emotions he has found smiles and laughter in her company. "Who taught you how to do this?" She circles the simulacra, never touching, eyes roving over each aspect of it.

"My brother," he tells her, relaxing back on the bed and popping a grape into his mouth.

"The Morning Star?" She asks, voice incredulous and dark eyes flickering with something that the tainted archangel cannot name.

"That's the one," he confirms as she continues her examination.

The truth of the matter is, Gabriel is bored. Hecate left his side nearly three months ago with little more than an order for him to stay in this cabin, keep his head down and stay away from the world in general. He does not know why, desperately wants to know the real reason, but did as he was told and now regrets it. These have been lonely months and though he could break the wards about the cabin with little more than a thought and a snap of his fingers, it is not something that he is completely willing to do.

He still needs Hecate and disobeying her would mean alienating her to a degree. Now is not the time for that. This simulacra has been the perfect solution to the problem, an outgrowth of the illusions of both his own form and Hecate's that were his primary source of entertainment, and it has taken him a long time to weave the correct net about it. This creation is impressive and it is clear that Hecate thinks the same. She smiles at him, bright and brilliant, and congratulates him on a job well done.

"I never would have thought to make something like this, my friend," she gestures to the illusion and he snaps his fingers, banishing it to that place at the back of his mind, as her eyes become a little sad. "It won't be long until you no longer need me."

Which, Gabriel realises abruptly, is not entirely true. Granted he has made progress as a replacement for Loki, his pranks are slowly becoming more elaborate, more in keeping with the actions of the god rather than an angel, but his knowledge has holes in it. He has not completely made the transition and there is a part of him that does not want to become a solitary pagan god slowly losing his mind to blood lust and impotence. He does not want to rely on illusions for company forever.

"Won't stop you from visiting every now and then, though," he smirks at her and Hecate's own smile is relieved. They have become accustomed to one another, to Gabriel's burgeoning sense of humour and her warped one, to the way that she will cling to him when they are immersed among humans to curb her natural bloodlust and the whisper of her gravelly voice in the night when they discuss methods and improvements. They have come to genuinely enjoy one another's company and he is not entirely certain which of them is more surprised by that.

When he asks her the reason for her long absence, however, Hecate dances around answering him. Her dark eyes seem to grow hard and cold and her tone lowers as she tells him not to think on her journey any longer. He frowns, not liking the response, but he knows that it is better to allow her to have her secrets. Hecate has spent many years of her existence trusting no one and Gabriel has had too much of his own trust betrayed for him to _not_ be a little suspicious of her motives still.

They stare at each other for a long moment, eyes hard and postures tense. Not for the first time, Gabriel wonders if they are to come to blows about this. Not for the first time he wonders if this is going to be the day that he will have to kill her. She backs down after a while, taking a step away from him and though she is still defiant, there is less of a threat to her stance. As a peace offering, he snaps up a table of treats and sweetmeats. Hecate gives him a small smile of thanks, heading to the table and taking a slice of baklava that is all thick pastry and sweet honey.

He is prevented from following her example by a rush of _something_ through the part of Loki that has been joined to him. Whatever it is, it is dark, primitive, a desperate draw to somewhere else in the world. Hecate seems disturbed by his startled gasp, delicate hands fluttering over his abdomen as she seeks the source of his discomfort and her mouth settling into a thin line when she seems to discover it.

"What is this?" He demands, finding that the pull now has him doubled over in agony as he tries to remain where he is against an almost irresistible force.

"It's a summoning ritual," she tells him, tilting his chin up so that she can look at his honey coloured eyes, paler now that they belong to Gabriel and not Loki, "someone is calling the Trickster god and you're honour bound to answer that call." He gapes up at her. "Don't worry, I'll be with you every step of the way, I promise."

They stare at each other, in a moment so different from the danger of only minutes before. Her eyes are compassionate and he dreads to think what she sees in his. Neither speaks and a fresh wave of demanding pain rushes through him, tearing a groan from his lips. Hecate does not wait, simply relaxes the warding she has placed around this cabin to keep him safe and orders him to take her to the source. He does not even consider objecting to it.

They are in a small wooded clearing when he opens his eyes and looks around him, just out of sight of an alter which has been crudely constructed in the centre. Knelt in front of it is a young woman, her flaxen hair hanging in snarls down her back and her face streaked with dirt and tears. At her feet is a bowl of blood, _horse_ blood some instinct tells him, and she is chanting to Loki in the Norse god's native language.

"Play carefully," Hecate whispers, "bargain hard, and agree to _nothing_ until you know precisely what she wants." Gabriel nods and steps forward, drawing his head high and letting just the smallest flicker of Loki's magic embrace him, dancing around his body and making him appear all that much more intimidating.

"It's been a long time since someone was desperate enough to summon me," he tells the girl, "so you're either incredibly brave or supremely stupid." Blue eyes stare up at him, wide, defiant and amazed.

"I prayed it would work," she whispers. "You are here, please, aid me, you must help us."

"Loki must do nothing of the sort," Hecate steps in and Gabriel wishes that, just this once, she had stayed out of it. "You are in no position to give him orders, you should respect your god." The girl shrinks away from both of them, fear in her eyes now that she knows the being she summoned is not alone.

"_Hecate_," there is a warning in his voice and she glances at him, startled, before taking a momentary step back. The hint is clear, however, he needs to be firmer in his dealings with this girl. "Why did you summon me?" He demands.

"I," the confidence has leached out of this young woman in a matter of moments, the triple goddess clearly makes her very nervous and one day Gabriel will investigate that further. Right now, however, he is more interested in why he has been dragged out into the night and away from his tasty feast and relatively agreeable company. "My sister and four other girls have been raped," her voice is low.

"And _how_ is this any concern of mine?" He prompts and hears Hecate let out a soft sigh of relief even if the girl does not.

"We know it's the priest who is doing it," there is a fervour to her tone, one that Gabriel cannot ignore. "I saw him with my sister, but no one will believe us."

"I'm not an instrument of your vengeance," he points out, folding his arms over his chest as he has seen Hecate do a number of times when she has been annoyed with him.

"He has to be stopped, my lord, please," the blue eyes she turns up to him are pleading and in the back of his mind Gabriel has already decided that it cannot hurt to take a look at the situation as it stands at the moment. He suspects that Hecate, from her continued silence, is of the same opinion but he knows that they cannot simply look into it now that this girl has involved the blood rites.

"What do I get in return?" He asks instead and sees her shy away.

"Will you give yourself to Loki to use as he will?" Hecate interjects and he knows what she is implying with that. He knows what she is going to expect him to do and when he looks back at her there is a plea on his face and horror in his eyes. Her own expression is hard, giving no indication of her real feelings about the situation, and he finds himself hoping that she is as repulsed by the idea as he is.

"I don't understand," the girl admits and Gabriel is certain that this is the truth. She has dug up an ancient rite and used it to try to get justice for her sister and friends, justice that her own people will not provide, with no thought to the consequences. The expression on Hecate's face seems to be enough for the girl, she may be asking Loki to avenge the stolen purity of her friends, but she will lose hers in the process. She begins to sob and Gabriel is on the verge of telling her that it will all be alright, that he will help her without taking this payment because he has no desire to hurt her, but the fire in Hecate's eyes tells him to hold his tongue.

"You cannot expect your god to aid you for nothing, Loki is not a slave to be summoned," Hecate points out and the girl goes silent, she is little more than a child in this way, with a dirty face and snarled hair and an innocence tainted by hard circumstances.

"I understand," the child whispers and Gabriel shakes his head at Hecate, he does not want this, knows that the girl does not want this. "If I do this, lord Loki, you will help me?" The affirmative response is given by Hecate, not Gabriel, but he can see something in the set of her shoulders that tells him that she is not entirely happy with this either. The girl clambers onto the alter, lifting her skirts and Gabriel looks away. "Then I will do this," she is shaking, frightened, but she is giving herself for her friends and her sister.

It turns his stomach.

He watches the girl stare at him for a long moment and finally he snaps his fingers, letting just a trickle of his grace seep through to freeze time around both Hecate and himself.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" She demands before the lingering sound of rustling leaves has died away. "Have you completely taken leave of your sanity?"

"She's a _child_, Hecate, this isn't right!"

"Of course it's not right, Loki, it's not supposed to be _right_." Hecate pushes a hand back through her hair, eyes darting about the clearing as she struggles to bring her emotions under control. "You wanted to be one of us, and in bargains such as this either flesh or a virgin sacrifice is required. This _child_ can provide either. I had hopes that you would take the option that would allow her to live."

"I won't do it," he insists.

"Then you can't help her, you can't help her village, and you can't stop a man of religion abusing the power that faith has given him. I'm sorry," her fingers trace the silver chain about her neck, the one he knows holds the vial of his grace, and for a moment he worries that she is going to use it to bind him to her will. "I will not do that," she has followed his train of thought exactly, "but you have a choice to make; flesh, purity, or denial. She's given you no other options."

"I never intended it to be like this, Hecate," he tells her. In this frozen instant they have all the time in the universe and he will not go forward until he is certain that she understands it in some way.

"You expected revelry, of course, hedonism in the purest sense because that is what you were taught we are like. Am I correct?" He does not need to answer, because he is well aware that she already knows what he is going to say. "Our paths are darker than you realise, our rules fewer and far more deadly, we're _not_ angels. Make your choice."

Gabriel closes his eyes, Hecate has always been careful to treat him as Loki when they are not in the safe place that she uses to hide them from the others. In her bluntness now there is an element of her past with the god she sacrificed for the archangel's sake. If he fails her in this now, there will be no going back. He will have betrayed their actions to the others and neither of them can afford to do that.

"Leave," he orders and she stares at him, slipping and beginning to whisper his true name. "I'm not a simpleton, Hecate, I know what to do. Leave."

He is not sure if he is relieved or disappointed when she sees the threat in his eyes and does as she is told. What is done is done, however, and he turns his attention back to the girl on the alter, frozen in time in a terrible display of desperation. He realises that he has not even thought to discover her name, but that _Loki_ would view it as unnecessary and so must he. A snap of his fingers, the shift of mobile time, and he is before her, ready and unwilling.

Gabriel is gentle, he owes the girl-child that much, but she still sobs with the sudden pain of it. Frightened and young, and here he is not sure if he is thinking of the girl or himself, alone and desperate. The archangel wants to help, has to do this to be allowed to by pagan rules, wishes he could make it other than hollow satisfaction and the loss of innocence. It is done, however, and deadly justice is rapidly dispatched upon the priest. Later the man in question will encounter an innocent girl to his tastes, an innocent girl who will proceed to not only _remove_ the organ with which the man would defile her but force him to eat it too. Blood loss and infection will take care of the rest.

He sees the job done before he returns to the safe house where Hecate is waiting for him.

The goddess does not apologise, seeming to know that the words would be hollow, and there is no triumph in her gaze when she meets his eyes. Rather, she is subdued, concerned, and her gaze is hawklike as one of her dogs watches him with a snarl.

"I've taught you everything I can," she tells him, "if you wish it, I'll leave you to your eternity."

He wants to tell her to leave him alone, wants to drive her into the night with his anger and guilt, but for the fact that the idea of an eternity alone frightens him. The idea of spending the rest of his days with only illusions for company and the capricious darkness of Loki caressing the light of his grace makes something in him go tight. Instead he falls to his knees before her, buries his face in her dress as she holds him tight to her, and sobs for the innocence he has just lost and destroyed before allowing the part of Loki he has fought against for a century to finally meld with his grace.

When the tears pass the honey eyes that gaze up at Hecate no longer glow with barely suppressed grace, they _shine_ with the light of a trickster.

_Artemis_


	7. Midsummer

_Slightly shorter chapter this time, with something of an interlude. I'll be honest, my original impulse was to make Hecate and Kali hate each other completely from the moment we first meet her. I'm hoping that my change of tactic goes down alright. This is actually a scene that I wrote on a train up to Nottingham several months ago and I've been dying to use it. So I figured I'd use it now and I hope you all enjoy._

Chapter Six: Midsummer.

The years pass and Gabriel continues to learn about the pagans, continues to embrace their culture and their ways. The part of him that was once Loki no longer fights against the brilliance of his grace and the twist of Hecate's magic that binds them together, now it slides and caresses between them. It creates a warmth and sense of togetherness that sustains him through the triple goddess' ever longer and ever more frequent absences. When questioned, she tells him that it is because he can be left to his own devices now, unless he opens his mouth no one would know the difference. He does not dwell on the meaning behind those words.

What he _has_ discovered, is that the pagans really like a good party and that they hold them at midsummer and midwinter purely and simply because they can. Usually they involve a great deal of sweet food, thick honey wines and the odd human body part. He tends to avoid the latter where he can. Though he has attended a number of parties since his first blood ritual, this will be the first where he is coming of his own volition rather than at Hecate's urging. Like all the others he is worried that someone will notice the changes and remark on them and he knows that if Hecate were with him she would laugh, she would tell him that it would be attributed to snake venom and the loss of Sigyn.

Upon arrival at such functions he is always reminded that Loki is not well liked by the other pagans, something which did not surprise him as much as it should have, and that the others look down on Hecate somewhat for being associated with him. Given that both of them are powerful in their own right, the others tolerate Loki and grudgingly respect Hecate. Whatever damage his friendship with her has caused, Hecate's reputation appears to have protected her from the backlash over the years. Which is why it should not come as a surprise to see her in a corner of the room with Anubis.

Somehow it still comes as something of a kick to his stomach and, as Freyja is all too eager to point out to him, he does a poor job of hiding it. In fact the pretty blonde does it with the kind of relish that makes Gabriel wonder if Hecate lied about there not being something more between Loki and herself in the past.

"All that effort wasted, Loki" Freyja purrs, "Anubis is determined to have her."

He does not look at the blonde, does not want her to see the anger that is filling him at the insinuations she is making. He knows that he should not let this bother him, that much of the pagan way of politics is sex and blood, he simply dislikes the way that Freyja's words imply that Hecate's loyalty can be bought in the satisfying of her body in such a manner. He choses to remain silent, but far from discouraging his tormentor it seems to serve only to do the exact opposite.

"Rumour has it that you were an incredible lover before the snake venom," her voice is spiteful, "how easy will it be, I wonder, for Anubis to charm her from your bed and into his?"

"I have no interest in being bed partners with Hecate, Freyja," he sneers at her. "I enjoy a dangerous liaison but even _I'm_ not stupid enough to bed a woman who has hellhounds at her beck and call." Freyja does not respond and he risks a glance over his shoulder to see her mouth working furiously as she tries to come up with a reply. "Didn't you know?"

"You're lying," she accuses and he shakes his head.

"Why lie when the truth is infinitely more satisfying?" He queries, watching as Hecate delicately removes a wandering hand from her hip before approaching them. "Ask her yourself." He challenges.

"Unlike some here, I have infinitely more decorum," she brushes away the challenge and the veiled insult, inclining her head minutely as the triple goddess joins them. "Hecate," her voice is chill.

"Freyja," the maiden's voice is no less frigid and Gabriel once again feels like he is missing something important here. "Loki," there is delight in Hecate's voice as she addresses the archangel and his own greeting is no less joyful. They have not seen one another for nearly eight months, he did not attend the midwinter ball, and apparently Hecate is eager for them to catch up as she hooks an arm through his and pulls him away from the Norse goddess.

More and more, Gabriel is noticing the differences between him and the others. Hecate's hand is cool against his arm, cooler even than a human because the pagan's run a little colder, he is always warmer, however, Artemis once made a comment on it and it is amazing the number of little changes that can be blamed on snake venom. The warmth means that Hecate leans into him, much in the same way that she does with humans, and he is coming to realise that part of the reason they crave human flesh is the warmth of it. The other part, of course, is simply that they enjoy the _taste_, but he is certain that heat comes into it somewhere.

"You need to be more careful around her," Hecate tells him when they are out of earshot. "Freyja is not overly enamoured of either of us."

"I really hadn't noticed," he grins, simply because he _knows_ that it will annoy his friend and he likes to get a rise out of her sometimes. She scowls at him for a moment and he allows the smile to stay in place. He understands what she is saying, probably better than she realises, but Freyja is one of the Norse gods and it will be impossible for him to avoid her completely. Besides which, it is exactly the kind of response that Loki would give and she nods a moment of approval to it before the scowl returns.

"Just be careful," she reiterates after a moment, "I put a lot of effort into getting you onto your feet, I'd rather she didn't undo all of that." Their eyes lock and they stare at one another seriously for a long minute, then he nods curtly enough to satisfy her that he is serious. Her expression relaxes and she glances across the room at the darkly tanned man she had been talking to when Gabriel entered. "What do you think about Anubis?" She asks.

"He's a tiresome bore," a new voice tells them and Hecate's face seems to light up in delight as she brushes past Gabriel to embrace the woman behind him. She has clear skin, dark eyes and hair of purest black, flames seem to dance about her and within her and Gabriel knows that he is seeing her strength. There is death here, too, danger and there is something almost irresistible about that. "You could do infinitely better."

"You _would_ say that," Hecate laughs and waves a hand in his direction. "You remember Loki, don't you, Kali?" She asks, effectively making an introduction whilst subtly telling Gabriel that Kali knows the previous owner of this body.

"I remember you," Kali bows her head to him and then turns her attention back to Hecate. "I didn't believe you would actually get him back on his feet, though. I was certain the venom would kill him."

"Then we're both lucky you were wrong," Gabriel steps in. "Although I don't remember you visiting me, Kali." The name is familiar, of course, so he supposes that death and destruction are well within her sphere of awareness.

"You were very close to death at the time, I'm not even certain that your mind was entirely present," Kali begins.

"When has it ever been?" Hecate mumbles.

"That was a well kept secret, old friend," Gabriel grumbles at her and her expression turns innocent.

"That you lack one?"

"That I ever had one at all," he smirks and Kali laughs outright.

"It's a shame I didn't know you before the venom," she tells him. "I expect a visit, Hecate, and I expect you to give me _all_ the details about Anubis. Excuse me."

He watches her leave, intrigued to feel the first stirring of something he suspects might be desire as she does so. It is not the first time that he has felt such a thing in the years, most often for a human woman, and as time has passed he has grown more and more comfortable with the idea. He is now stuck on this earth and as the creature he has disguised himself as until one or other of his brothers dies. He may as well enjoy the perks and pleasure happens to be one of them.

Secretly he suspects that things in Heaven may have worked out vastly differently if _all_ of his brothers and not just the Grigori had known about this.

First of all, however, he has to work out what rumours have been flying around about Loki. Kali is not the first to mention that she has heard about changes in the trickster god and he is getting the impression that not _all_ of them are as accurate as the others believe. He would rather like to stop a crisis before it begins. He would also rather like to teach whoever it is not to annoy a trickster. It does not mean that he cannot enjoy the party in the meantime.

_Interlude and filler, I'm sorry, I'll be getting to the meatier stuff soon enough though._

_Artemis  
_


	8. Friendship

_Oh, Chuck! I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I had this whole plan and it backfired a little. Then _Sherlock_ aired on BBC 1 and I may have become super distracted by Benedict Cumberbatch's impressive cheekbones. Also, I was completely uninspired (partly due to lack of reviews when I know people are watching this fic and partly because I've been ill and planning to move back in with the maternal parent). So, yeah, I have no real excuses (Cumberbatch I'm looking at you) and Gabriel should be mightily annoyed with me. _

_On the plus side I'm super inspired for the next chapter.  
_

Chapter Seven: Friendship.

Gabriel catches up with the rumour spreading pagan deity nearly three years later and it pains the part of him that is Loki to learn that _Sigyn_ is the one doing it. The rest of him is simply worried the goddess has found out the truth about the changes.

He truly believes that Sigyn once loved Loki deeply, that their marriage had been born of far more than political wrangling. The harsh nature of the trickster god's punishment, and the way that it had drawn her and tethered her to his side, is probably the main cause of her discontent with him, the main cause of her apparent bitterness. Hecate probably has not helped matter overly. For years Sigyn was forced to watch as her husband was tortured, as he writhed in agony under the snake's venom each time she was forced to leave him, and in all that time there was nothing that she could do about it. In all that time to leave him was to subject him to agonies that were unbearable to witness and the bowl the only lessening of those cries.

Then Hecate came and did the one thing that Sigyn could not, she freed Loki of his chains and took him some place where she could attempt to heal the damage that had been done. Gabriel can understand how that would eat at the woman who would love a trickster. He can understand why she would lash out at a man she viewed as unfaithful. It does not mean that it hurts any less, that she has hurt the part that is Loki any less.

It gets confusing sometimes, trying to sort the parts of him that are Loki from the bits that are truly Gabriel. He is well aware that the thoughts and emotions of the trickster god are merely echoes, nothing more than the resonating screams of a dying creature of blood and magic, yet he cannot help but notice how they influence him, how they affect the choices that he makes. He cannot help but notice that the little bit of Loki that has been fused into his grace does this with ever increasing frequency and he does not want to stop and think about what that may mean.

Certainly he is changed because of this, he doubts that his brothers would know him to look at him if they were to accidentally come across him. At least, they would not without some sort of closer examination and he cannot afford for any one of them to get that close. Which is where following the residual impulses of a long dead god comes in handy, because those actions are within the notice of his siblings and dismissed as the usual blood lust of a primitive race of pagans clinging to their last hope. Hecate was right. This is the perfect disguise.

Unfortunately, the rumours that Sigyn is insisting on spreading are a threat to that disguise. The woman is too vocal in her opinion of his changes, too eager to point them out to the people who will listen. On some level he understands that she is attacking Loki because she is hurting and confused, cut adrift and dismissed by a goddess of witchcraft who's ability to do the near impossible far out strips her own. The rest of him does not _want_ to care why she is doing it, just that she _stops_.

Gabriel approaches her in a field somewhere in what was once Gaul, open and visible it is a place that he does not believe she can feel threatened or intimidated by him. From her expression she is simply wondering how he has the audacity to approach her at all. He wonders it himself.

"Where's your mistress?" Sigyn demands, there is a crack to her tone, the deflection of anguish by turning it into anger.

"I have no mistress," he forces himself to keep his voice neutral though he knows that she is referring to Hecate.

"Yet you obey her every command," Sigyn comments, her lips twisting, "in ways you never would have done with me. She tells you to sit, you kneel at her feet, she tells you to _stay_ and you remain in place like a good _dog_!"

"You know that isn't true," he conveniently ignores the years where he obeyed everything that Hecate ordered he do simply because he has always been accustomed to obedience. "She told me to stay away from you."

"You should have done," Loki's wife informs him. He is silent, watches as she seems to crumble before him. "What did I _do_, Loki?" She demands. "What should I have _done_? Should I have stayed and listened to your screams? Why should I have been punished for _your_ idiocy?"

She vanished before the sound of her final word has died away and Gabriel turns his face to the sky, almost as though he is contemplating asking his absent Father for guidance. Instead he closes his eyes and draws a breath, savours the clean scent of apples and the dustiness of drying hay. The breeze teases at his hair, carrying long strands that have worked loose from his braid about his face and causing them to lash and whip against cheeks that are oddly sensitive. It also carries something else, a scent of sweat and blood. Stale dirt and roads long travelled. He smells the dusky sharpness of yew and he frowns before pain shatters through his torso.

SPN

Hecate likes Kali, she always has. The other goddess can be fickle at times, petulant often, and down right deadly the majority of the time, but no more so than the rest of them. She is known among the people who worship her as _The Destroyer_, and though she is certainly most capable of such wanton destruction as is sometimes attributed to her Hecate knows that it actually takes quite the hefty push to make such things happen.

Her friendship with the other goddess has always satisfied that darker part of her, the crone side that delights in the closing of the cycle and the blood and ending of it. It can also make her difficult, her intoxication on the blood of the dead is not just a myth created by the people who love and fear her.

"I like the new Loki," Kali comments as they both sip from steaming cups of sweet tea. She has stuck with the usual form of a woman this time, wanting to draw a little less attention to herself for a time after her latest argument with Shiva nearly destroyed a small town.

"How so?" Hecate is on her guard now, almost imperceptibly so. She does not need Kali discovering the truth about the changes in the trickster god.

"He seems nicer," Kali blushes a little as she says it, " nothing like the cold bastard he used to be." Which is all the warning that Hecate has that Kali actually _likes_ Loki a whole lot more than she really should.

Hecate know both the reasons for this and the fallacy behind it. Gabriel is no nicer than Loki was, he simply hides the darkness he carries better. She laughs and shakes her head, frantically scrabbling to find a reason to hand the goddess that will tell her that this is a bad idea without actually giving away secrets.

"I thought, maybe, the two of you would like to join me for dinner," Kali continues, "you could bring Anubis as well. It's been too long since I served up a formal meal."

"I don't think the jackal would appreciate that," Hecate declines politely, "you know he hates Loki as much as the rest of you seem to these days."

"He nearly killed one of us, Hecate," Kali points out, "and there was no remorse, no apology. I think we have every reason to dislike him."

There is nothing that Hecate can add to that. None of the others have wondered where Odin pulled that snake from, just knew that he had it, none of them have considered the fact that it belonged to her and that she allowed her own fear at Loki's actions to drive her own censure of the being. She regrets it now, so whole heartedly and completely that she wonders that the others never seem to notice it, but there is little she can do to remedy her mistake than be as good a friend to Gabriel as she can. She supposes that by aiding them in the punishment of the trickster god she made sure that he lived, she supposes that this way she got to end his punishment at a time of her choosing.

"You find him interesting now, though," Hecate points out, "you find him attractive."

"He brushed fingers with death, he's strong no matter what Sigyn says, I need that kind of strength." She stares at the triple goddess with dark, emotionless eyes, her true feelings on the matter hidden from even her friend. "Would you object to that? If I were to enter into such a liaison with him?"

"Are politics all you think about?" Hecate sighs. It is not that she is disappointed with her friend, Kali is powerful and high in the general hierarchy of the collective pagan gods and she would not have reached that position were it not for a great deal of political prowess, simply that Hecate knows that her friendship with Gabriel is clouding her opinion here. Love is an emotion highly coveted and rarely felt.

"He might not realise it, but Anubis is politics for you too. He's powerful, Hecate, the others listen to him and an alliance with him would go a long way to fixing the damage your association with Loki has done to your standing."

"He yips in his sleep," is the only thing that Hecate can think to say in response and Kali laughs. She is still laughing when the grace that hangs between the triple goddess's breasts burns hot and a white pain explodes through her chest.

Hecate hears someone screaming as she claws at the front of her dress, expecting to find the sharp end of a stake there. Her fingers only encounter embroidered cloth and delicate skin, tearing and pulling and causing tiny rivulets of blood to blossom and flow. Dimly she is aware of her friend calling her name, aware of soft hands dragging clawing fingers away and pinning her as she writhes and tries to work out _what_ this is.

Gabriel's name is a half aborted sigh on her lips as madness begins to slip in accompanied by understanding. This must be what Baldur had felt like when the arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. She knows that this is not real, not even remotely, knows that it is the phantom sensation of agony translated through a bond of magic and grace that should never have been formed, but it _hurts_.

Ultimately it takes a real and immediate pain to bring her back to the present, to make her aware of the cold stone at her back and the weight of Kali on her hips as the other goddess restrains her. Warm blood floods her mouth and her cheek throbs where the dark haired woman struck her.

"Loki," she breathes, dark eyes wide as she pushes her friend away, runs her hands through her black red hair before willing it to be held away from her face in silver chains. "He's been hurt, I need to..." she trails off.

"Hecate, what have you _done_?" Kali demands, shaking a little as she starts to put together pieces, as she starts to build up the puzzle of Loki and the triple goddess. "You've bonded to him!"

"He doesn't know, he doesn't need to know. It was the only way to save him."

"You should have let him die," Kali's voice is icy and she grabs Hecate's arm before the other goddess can leave. "If the others find out you'll wish you had. The rules..."

"Are sometimes made to be broken," Hecate finishes. " I have to go to him."

"He can take care of himself," Kali mutters. "We need to fix this."

"It will fix itself, slowly, let me go," Hecate's voice is barely above a whisper but Kali does as she is asked. One day the triple goddess knows that this is going to cause trouble for her, this bond, but for the moment it is useful, for the moment it will allow her to keep Gabriel alive.

She will deal with the rest as it comes and now it is time to discover what has been done to her friend.

_Because I haven't left you with an evil cliffie of doom for a while._

_Artemis  
_


	9. Mistakes

_So I'm going to try and come up with a reason for the beginning of this. I've been trying all weekend and finding none. It's made worse by the fact that the inspiration was a smushy 90's pop song that I haven't listened to since I was sixteen. In fact, I haven't really thought about the group since I was sixteen either, a1 isn't exactly the crowning glory of my musical tastes here peoples. So quite how 'Like a Rose' translates to the first portion of this I have _no_ idea. I did, however, manage to keep needless and complicating smut from happening when it wasn't supposed to. These two simply will not do as they're told though._

_Also I apparently have a hidden kink that some others might find squicky. I considered raising the rating, then figured not. Might have to later at the rate these two are going though.  
_

Chapter Eight: Mistakes.

Gabriel stares at the stake that has emerged from Loki's chest for a long moment, confused by the pain that he is experiencing, which is when the threat that the stunned man behind him represents finally sinks in. He turns, reaching for the man's neck as he does so and pulling the human close so that he can look at him. Gabriel's face is in contorted in a snarl, everything in him is screaming that he smite this human that smells of offal and death, but that will draw the attention of others and he cannot afford that. So he squeezes, feels as his fingers sink into soft flesh to draw blood and crush the man's throat and to his shame there is pleasure in it.

When Hecate finds him Gabriel is stood over the body of the man who stabbed him. Blood is dripping slowly off the end of the stake and he touches it for a moment, perplexed frown crossing his features at the throb of pain it evokes. Hecate is pale, trembling, and her normally gentle dark eyes are wild and red as she stares at him, hands balled into fists at her sides.

Gabriel has felt pain before, the slip slide of brothers swords against his grace, the anguish of Lucifer's betrayal, but this is different. This is at once muted by his grace, a non fatal blow that leaves his grace rolling in aggravation, and yet it has the pagan magic tied into him shrieking, slithering and rolling to try and get away. Those little parts _burn _and_ roar_, bring a tremble to him that he cannot control and a madness and bloodlust that he does not _want_ to master.

"Are you going to remove that?" Hecate demands. Her voice is hoarse, raw and broken instead of the smoke he is accustomed to. It makes him stare at her. The goddess steps forward, pain and insanity still shading her eyes red as she takes hold of the stake with her bare hands. She winces and every sensation that battles through him intensifies as she wrenches the simple weapon from him.

Blood soaked wood is dropped to the ground with a sigh, though he does not know if it is his or hers. Hecate's hands are no less coated in crimson, Gabriel's own are gloved in a mixture of his own blood and that of the human, and even as he feels the hole in his chest begin to knit back together he sees Hecate raise her fingers to her lips, watching as the trickle of blood from the wound slows and halts. When she licks them it is done almost absently as she looks at him, the tip of her index finger sliding between her lips and he grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away as her tongue sneaks out to lap at another.

Her eyes snap up to meet his, demanding, lustful, _wanting_ and it knocks the breath from him. This is not a goddess in control, this is the wild creature that Hecate truly is, a being of sex and blood and magic that is ancient, dark and powerful. She likes flesh, and blood, he knows she does because he has seen her consuming it, and he should find the fact that she would lick her hands clean of him repulsive. That he does not is baffling and he wonders if it is another element of Loki slipping through.

She moves closer to him, close enough that she can nose at the new flesh through the hole in his tunic, close enough to flick her tongue out to clean a trail of blood on exposed skin and he gasps.

"Hecate," he hisses, trying to make it a warning as his grip on her wrists tightens. She turns her face up to him, dark eyes shining and her lips and chin smeared with his blood. He releases a wrist without thinking to wipe the slick liquid from her chin and ends up spreading more across her cheek from his own hand.

The goddess turns her head, sucking one of his fingers into her mouth and laving her tongue around it, licking and suckling until it is clean. Part of him is telling him to stop her as she mouths a second finger, swirls her tongue around the tip of it, but the rest of him is already reaching for her hand, already drawing her closer and pulling his finger from between her lips as she grumbles at the loss of it.

He replaces it with his lips, tasting iron and salt as he licks his way into her mouth and she surges against him. Hecate tugs at his wrecked tunic, the strength of a goddess making short work of the ruined fabric, tearing it from him so that she can expose the new skin on his chest. He pulls away, then, ducking his head so that he can mouth at the crimson that stains her cheek, kiss it from her as his hands move to the front of her dress. For a moment his fingers brush against the fresh scratches on her breast and he spares a thought for how easy it would be to reopen those wounds, to make them bleed freely for him so that he could taste her the way she has him. The whimper in the base of her throat tells him that Hecate has thought of it too.

As abruptly as she allowed him to start this, however, she pushes him away again, eyes wide and breathing rapid.

"Hecate..." he reaches to pull her close again, confused and knowing that he wants her.

"We _can't_, Gabriel," she insists, taking another step away and he knows that he could catch her, could stop her, but also knows that there is little point in it. "This never happened." She orders, not waiting for a response before vanishing. Were it not for the tears in her eyes the archangel would think that she had been playing with him the whole time.

He knows that he could snap his fingers and the blood would be cleaned away, the holes in his tunic mended and the stains lifted, snap his fingers and everything that he and Hecate have done in this moment will be erased but for the memories. Gabriel finds that he does not want to brush it away that quickly.

He returns to one of the safe houses he owns in Norway, snapping his fingers to produce a roaring fire and a bath full of steaming water. Another snap removes his damaged clothes and still another creates a plate of sweet fruit and cakes that he eyes as he slips into the scalding water. Gabriel soaks for a while, the plate of sweet treats ignored as he thinks on the events of the day.

Getting caught by the human was, of course, a monumentally stupid thing to do. He berates himself for not paying attention, for allowing the words Sigyn flung his way to cloud his mind, and moves his thoughts on to Hecate's reaction. Given the sheer quantity of blood at the scene, the vicious way that Gabriel tore into the man who stabbed him, the archangel surmises that he should not have been surprised that her natural taste for flesh and blood had overwhelmed her.

What _does_ surprise him is that he allowed himself to fall into the same trap. He has taken the sacrifices over the years, the virgins and the sweets and even the odd meal of flesh, but he has never felt their influence so keenly as he did in that field. He has never _wanted_ so badly as he wants right now. Hecate's reaction to the situation was extreme, pushing him away in the manner that she did. Gabriel is not stupid, by any stretch, she had to have had a reason and he knows that if he thinks about it for long enough the answer will come to him.

Which is does, as his eyes rove about the room and fall upon the jackal statue that Anubis gifted him with the last time Hecate brought the Egyptian to visit. This is her politics, the delicate relationship that she has built with the other god in order to enhance her status among the others. To throw Anubis over now, for _Loki_ of all the gods, would be a foolish thing to do with long reaching repercussions. Hecate has respect and position among the others, though it has been damaged through her long friendship with Loki, and he knows that she feels that Anubis is her key to moving _up_ in the hierarchy. It is key in much the same way as her friendship with Kali.

He frowns. He has _liked_ Hecate for a long time, more time than he cares to admit to, and he wonders if that has something to do with the isolation that they spent many years living in. Evidently, his desire for her is returned on some level. Just as evidently, Hecate has decided that burying it is the only option. Burying what he wants is something that Gabriel has gotten very good at over the years, and he is very much aware that Hecate could cause him a lot of problems if he choses to go against her.

Of course, it could all have been down to the heat of the moment, could be Hecate regretting a rash action that has no real bearing on her feelings for him. That explanation hurts more than the idea that she has pushed him away for the sake of political expediency. Still, two can play politics and he decides that it is about time that Loki start to push his way back up the ladder a little bit. It is time that he remind the other gods that Loki is a trickster and is to be feared and respected.

He smiles, snaps up a girl with blonde hair and wide, vapid, blue eyes, and settles into a massage as he eats a strawberry.

SPN

Hecate curses herself for a complete fool. She is under no illusions about the idiocy of allowing Kali to realise that she is bonded to Loki, just as she is under no illusions that if Kali decides she needs something from Hecate she will not hesitate to use it against the triple goddess. The stupidest thing that she has done this day, however, is let her own lusts and desires get the better of her.

There had been so much blood, so much pain, the need to reassure herself that Gabriel was whole and well. Had he not touched her she thinks that she would have managed to control herself. She tries to convince herself that she would have remained in control. Stepping away from him, not letting herself be further affected by the hurt and the _need_ in his golden eyes, is the best that she could have done for both of them. The only thing that she could have done for both of them, she cannot risk undoing the work of decades on a tumble in a field with Gabriel.

She cannot risk cementing that bond when she is so close to breaking it painlessly for the both of them. Such bonds have been forbidden since Aphrodite and Hephaestus, their loveless pairing, trapped together for an eternity in suffering. Hecate has no intentions of falling into the same situation even if she knows that Gabriel would try to make everything work. She knows that Gabriel would try because the archangel wants a family above everything.

Beside her Anubis lets out a small sound, something like a bark, and she rolls onto her side as she wishes that she could be the one to give Gabriel that security. She fears that Kali will be the one to shatter that desire in the archangel. She hopes that it does not happen that way.

She hopes that Gabriel understands that he can never tell Kali what he really is, no matter how much he may think she loves him.

_No excuses! I'm sorry, don't be angry with me!_

_Artemis  
_


	10. Seduction

_Oops, this took a while to get together. In fairness I've been working really hard and at meetings again. This was mostly written on a train to a work gathering, it was fun. These two are starting to get to me now, though, they seem to be destined to hurt each other consantly and I wish they would stop. On the other hand, I decided not to dwell overly on the relationship between Gabriel and Kali, it's canon, it happened and that's the end of it as far as I'm concerned. I'll do what's necessary by canon and no more. Although if you really want Kali and Gabriel times let me know and I'll subject myself to Hammer of the Gods to get a better feel for her. I contemplated watching it in my hotel room on Monday night and chickened out. Too painful and I'm too attached to Gabriel. It's bad._

Chapter Nine: Seduction.

It takes nearly a decade for Gabriel to meet Hecate's eyes without flashing back to the raw beauty of them in the moment before they kissed. He does not know how long it takes _her_ to stop thinking about it, but the wistful glances that she throws his way suggest that she has not buried everything as effectively as she had hoped to. She does not talk of it, however, preferring to remain close to Anubis in public and rarely visiting Gabriel on her own. Given the pull in his chest each time he sees her alone, the lapsed archangel would rather it stays that way.

While Hecate's relationship with Anubis seems to be flourishing, however, Gabriel is getting no where with Kali. He should not be surprised to learn that human women are easy to charm in comparison to a goddess, but he is. What makes it worse is that he has no one to go to for advice, it would simply reveal too much about the nature of Loki's recovery to one of the others. Given his motivation, it does not seem right to ask Hecate for help.

As it turns out, he does not have to.

"You're going about it all wrong," Hecate informs him from the heavy chair by the fire place of his safe house when he returns from another unsuccessful attempt.

"_Really_?" He snaps at her as she gets to her feet. As they have every time he has seen her in the last two years, Gabriel's eyes drift to fixate on the gold ankh she now wears. Fixed around her neck on a cord of plaited leather, it grabs his attention every time. Gabriel hates the sight of it. The way that it glows red in the fire light, how out of keeping it is with everything that makes Hecate who she is. He hates the way that the leather looks like a collar and he hates how it all states '_Property of Anubis, do not touch._'

From the way Hecate brings a hand up to cover the adornment, Gabriel knows that his scrutiny of it makes her just as uncomfortable. It also makes him suspect that she holds it in as much distaste as he does. Neither of them have ever mentioned it.

"Yes, Loki, really," she hisses and he folds his arms over his chest as he glares. Hecate has taken to using his pseudonym more often when they are alone. Gabriel does not know what it means, but he does know that it cannot possibly be a good thing.

"Do enlighten me, dear maiden," he mocks in response. He knows full well that Hecate has not used the form of the maiden in well over a decade, that she has been unable to, though it is her preferred shape. She glares at him in silence for a while.

"You started too big," she relents after a moment. "You should have picked someone lower on the food chain or, better, you should have waited for _her_ to come to _you_." Gabriel scoffs at that, aware that in his current position Loki is _far_ beneath Kali's notice. "She would have done it, you know, just to create a scandal," Hecate continues, "she likes the chaos."

Hecate, Gabriel knows, prefers order, cycles. She is a moon goddess and there is a very definite routine to the moon that Hecate embraces. Which is why when she _does_ decide to rock the boat she is rarely traced to the centre of the disturbance. This is what she is doing now, he realises, using Gabriel's interest in Kali to create a little uproar that she can hide behind while she does something the others will frown upon.

"I'm not playing games, Hecate," he responds, more of a lash to his tone than he intends there to be.

"I never said you _were_," Hecate smirks, turning her eyes down to examine her nails, "but you can't back away now. You have to follow through, Kali expects it."

"Follow through with what?"

"The gifts are all very _sweet_, but that's not the way to get her attention. You can _keep_ it that way," Hecate explains, "but to _getting _it takes something a little more macabre."

"'Macabre'?" Gabriel queries, worry filling him. He had known that Kali could be more vicious than some of the others he has been exposed to, but he had not been aware that this could translate into a way of seducing her.

"She prefers brains," Hecate adds.

"Well I've got plenty of those," the archangel quips. From her expression, Gabriel concludes that intelligence was not what she was referring to and that the attempt to lighten the atmosphere between them has not been appreciated. He lets it pass and files '_whole human head_' under his mental list of gifts for Kali and leaves figuring out how to get one without breaking all the rules for later.

"Since you're such an expert," he says after a moment, "what else?"

"I'm not doing all the work for you," she laughs, though it sounds a little forced, "but once you've got her attention I suggest something public, and sweet, to show her you're serious. After that you're on your own." She shakes her hair out. "Anubis and I are hosting the midsummer party this year, I expect to see you there, Loki."

"Will I be permitted a dance with the hostess as well?" He asks and later he will reflect that he is a glutton for punishment. She grants him a shy smile.

"We'll see," she whispers and he knows that this is as much of an answer as he is likely to get until the moment comes. He also knows that when he _does_ finally ask at the party she is more than likely to say no.

"Then I'll be there," he says anyway, a promise. She nods and moves to take her leave. "Hecate," though she cannot see it, his hand twitches against his chest and he aches to reach out and touch her. "I miss you," he admits. The corner of her mouth turns up in a half smile and she moves closer to him.

"Don't go getting sentimental on me," she tells him and her eyes soften. "I miss you too, Gabriel," she whispers and brushes her lips across his cheek. The archangel's eyes slide closed at the fluttering sensation and when he opens them again she is gone.

It turns out that finding a fresh severed head is not all that hard when he is angry and frustrated.

Mostly he is angry with himself, angry for allowing the feelings that he has for Hecate to continue to affect him, angry that he still tries to act on them. He is also angry with her, because she could make all of this easier on the both of them if she would just stop playing politics, if she would just leave Anubis. It colours his judgement, drives him to start something that perhaps he should leave well alone.

The gift is delivered quietly, with little more than a grin and a bow, a promise to leave well enough alone if she does not respond to this favourably. Three days later Kali arrives with a fresh human heart on a tray of gold.

SPN

Hecate looks at the cavernous room, the way that the silks of red and gold have been draped by Anubis's worshippers almost lovingly. The light from the lamps catches them, making the gold seem tarnished and worn while the red reminds her so strongly of the blood that will later flow over the marble floors. Perhaps the thing that bothers her the most about this set up is that either one of them could have simply snapped their fingers and decorated the room any way that they had chosen to. There has been no need for such an ostentatious display and she wishes that Anubis would have allowed her to do it the way she wanted to.

She has lost a great deal of her freedom since she took up with the jackal.

Hecate has worried for months that Anubis will have discovered her visit to Gabriel, her encouragement of his pursual of Kali. She is not frightened of her lover, as such, merely more wary of him than she has been of others. Anubis likes control, likes obedience even from the woman whose association with him raises him in the esteem of others. This favour is not something that she can do for Loki, their opinion of him has sunk too low, but it is something that she can do to keep Anubis from following through on some of his threats against the trickster. Inviting Gabriel to this party may have been a mistake, but it is a necessary one. Kali must see that Loki is willing to risk his neck to have the opportunity to be with her and Gabriel must realise that even Hecate cannot be entirely trusted.

It is something that she wishes she did not have to teach him.

Later that day Hecate will enjoy a dance with Gabriel, she will call him Loki and laugh at his jokes. She will deny herself that which she is slowly coming to realise she craves in order to allow _two_ friends a chance together. She knows that this thing between Gabriel and Kali cannot, will not, last. Kali is already jaded by humanities whims and fickleness and Hecate knows that which she craves is simplicity and security. Gabriel is neither of these, hiding behind the callous and capricious personality of Loki and yearning for family. Gabriel wants to be loved, but not as _Loki_. Hecate will let them try to find what they need in each other anyway, that is what friends are for, and when the time comes to pick up the pieces she will be there.

For now she just has to watch them dance and watch them laugh. For now she just has to watch Gabriel use sweetness and violence to charm the goddess he wants and she has to fight to keep the anguish from her face. For now she just has to avoid giving Anubis any hint of what has happened between her and a trickster. For this moment in time she has to be cold, distant and ethereal.

What she really wants to do, however, is tear her heart out and stamp on it. What she wants is to go back in time and change it so that she never met, never knew, Gabriel. She wonders when she lost her heart to him so completely.

_Artemis_


	11. Kali

_Wow, I see to go in fits and starts with this fic. I'm going to try and be a little bit more regular about my updating because sooner or later Gamble and co. are going to come along and rip this back story to tiny little pieces so I need to get it done. Believe it or not, though, it's not writer's block that's preventing me from writing more. It's a combination of all the awesome fic out there distracting me, a sudden romantic interest (utterly unexpected), and _research_. I'm doing quite a bit of research for this fic, gods and their habits, time periods, historical figures. It gets a little distracting._

_I'd also like to take a moment to thank my reviewers from the last chapter, especially the ones that I can't send a reply to; Hecatefan (awesome name there!), anon and Kay (yes there will be, a little later on), Tina and Sudoku (because your reviews always make me think and make me smile).  
_

Chapter Ten: Kali.

By the time the situation with Joan of Arc begins, Gabriel has been romantically involved with Kali for nearly two hundred years. Those years have been both the best and the loneliest of his existence. He genuinely loves the goddess, has come to love her even though all this started as a way to get back at Hecate, and he thinks that she truly loves him. There is just one little detail: Kali only really knows the part of him that is Loki. She knows nothing of Gabriel.

He has spent twenty years considering the best way to tell her, always coming up with something and always backing out at the last moment. Gabriel contemplates on asking Hecate for help, after all she was instrumental in enabling this relationship in the first place, but he decides not to. It is not fair to put her in that position. Another reason that he does not tell Kali the truth, he does not want to put Hecate in danger should Kali take the news badly. It is that thought that keeps him from telling the woman he loves the truth on more than one occasion.

He covers his indecision with gifts and spontaneous showers of affection, moments of love so brilliant that he thinks it will consume him. His passion for this goddess seems to far outstrip that feeling that he has for Hecate, with Kali everything burns so brightly. Everything with Kali is strong, powerful, immediate. Hecate is a slow simmer, the distant longing on the edge of his awareness that makes him smother Kali in more affection. He wonders if his treatment of his lover is to compensate for the guilt he feels in allowing his feelings for Hecate to continue existing.

His worry over that all flies out the window when he hears about young Joan.

At first he is as willing as Anansi to laugh and poke fun at the mad little girl who claims to have had visions of God. Gabriel knows that his Father has no real interest in mankind's petty little war in France, so he cannot see any reason why she would have these visions. He cannot understand why she would claim to see the forms of manmade saints. He starts to become really concerned, however, when others mention that they have heard similar stories about her, when Zeus says that he has been told that the angels truly are talking to her. He worries more when Artemis tells them that she has seen the girl and that there is a light of grace about her.

When the English start rumours that she is a witch, Gabriel feels a sense of relief and at the same time of trepidation. This is something that Hecate will know the answer to whether Jeanne d'Arc, as she becomes known, belongs to the triple goddess, to Lillith or to any other goddess of witches. Unfortunately, she belongs to neither and he feels worry continue to build in him. If his brethren are interfering in this there is a strong possibility that he will be found out, discovered, and he cannot allow that. His concern distracts him, though he hopes that Kali has not noticed, and he turns to Hecate for comfort, friendship and advice because she is the only one who know the truth.

By the time everything is resolved he will wish that he had handled this differently.

SPN

Loki's interest in little Joan bothers Kali. She does not understand why her lover should be so interested in an upstart human girl who hears voices. Voices that the child claims are the voices of angels.

Loki has been tense since Anansi laughingly informed them of it months ago. He twitches at shadows and has not pulled a decent prank since that day. If Kali did not know better she would think that he was hiding from some imagined threat. He has also been spending longer with Hecate than he normally would. Usually he is too wrapped up in Kali and his jokes to have time for the Greek and that is how it should be.

Still, Kali wants answers and to that end she follows her lover on one of his many trips to see his friend, their friend. She half expects Anubis to be in on this, but he is nowhere to be seen. It makes the whole meeting seem more illicit, seem like Hecate and Loki are cheating on their respective partners and she trembles with the thought, the shame that it would bring.

She cloaks herself against detection when she arrives, shadowing herself in darkness and in death. It is still troubling when Loki looks at the place she is hiding with a frown on his face.

"What is it?" Hecate asks, following his line of sight and forcing Kali to deepen her hiding.

"I thought..." Loki pauses then turns back to his friend. "Nothing, this whole situation with Joan has me jumping at shadows."

"If you're that worried, go and look into it," Hecate replies. Even though she has slouched into the cushions as though she is bored, there is a tenseness to her voice that Kali thinks is misplaced.

"And if it _is_ them?" Loki questions, the words are a demand, heated and raw. "Do you have any idea what they would do to us for this? For what you've helped me do?"

"Who's to say they would know I was the one to help you?"

"They would know, Hecate, they _would know_," Loki leans forward, his gaze intense as he speaks. "They might not realise it straight away, but my brethren are resourceful. Michael doesn't take defection lightly and they'd be as likely to kill you as me."

Loki's heated words leave Kali confused, cold. This is not the way that the trickster normally speaks, there is none of the warm menace in his tone as he tries to make his point. There is simply cold rage, a raw anger and fear that is far placed from the Loki that she knows. Her lover does not speak of brethren, he never makes reference to the family that abandoned and betrayed him. He does not even speak of his own children. Loki certainly does not have a powerful brother named Michael, in fact, Kali knows of only _one_ group with a leader of that name.

_Angels_.

The thought is a foolish one and she dismisses it with a barely controlled huff. Loki is no angel, she knows that much, and has met enough of _that_ species to be certain. Many of them are so stiff and formal, Loki is refreshingly free of the restraints of social etiquette. He cannot possibly be an angel.

"We have to be sure," Hecate tells him. "Eventually Kali's going to notice that something's not right with you."

"She hasn't said anything," Loki tries to assure Hecate but Kali can see that worried frown again as he looks in her general direction. It is as though he is trying to work out what he sensed earlier, as though he knows it is her. "I want to tell her."

"Tell her _what_?" Hecate demands and she must understand something in Loki's face that Kali cannot because she swears. "Don't even _think_ about it! No! You think that _Michael_ will react badly, Gabriel? You have _no_ idea what she would do to you if she knew what you are." Kali recognises the name, naturally, because they all know the name of the Messenger, but she cannot quite reason why Hecate would use it here. She cannot quite grasp why she would call Loki by that name.

"I'm not an archangel anymore, Hecate, and we're in love. She deserves to know the truth."

"Kali loves _Loki_, Gabriel," there is pity in Hecate's voice as she speaks, as the pieces start to tumble into place in Kali's mind. "What we did, the way we merged you and Loki, the others wouldn't understand. Kali's my friend, but I would never trust her with something like this. It's too dangerous to do that."

"You think she'd turn on me?" Loki's, no, _Gabriel's_, voice is small, stunned and broken. He loves her, Kali realises, truly loves her with all his being, but he is not the creature that she set out to gain, not the god that she fell for. He is not really the one that she loves and that _hurts_ too much to forgive. It hurts too much to ignore.

She leaves them, a whisper of flame and a flash of thought, taking herself back to the chamber that she shares with Loki. For the first time she sees just how little of him there is in that room.

Part of her wants to ignore the things that she has just heard, wants to brush it under the carpet and pretend that everything is as it should be. That part is squashed by the rest of her, the pieces that are shattered and broken from too many betrayals and too much lost love and hope. The part of her that is truly deserving of the moniker 'Kali the Destroyer' wants to tear him to pieces and display them for all to see should an angel of any level cross her. It is tempered by the love she has for Loki, the desire to see if he values his own life and his hidden identity more than he does her. She settles on the bed to wait for him.

When he arrives he looks haunted, frail in a way that she cannot understand. Angels are as stone, unmoving and implacable, heartless and cold. Gods have a wider emotional range, are able to understand that basic facet of humanity better and so they are able to take a great deal of pleasure in it. Over the years of existence, Kali has forgotten where the simulated emotions end and the real ones begin. None of her kind have ever looked so beaten down, though, none of them have ever seemed so worried.

As soon as Loki sees her, however, a false smile is plastered over his face and his eyes brighten. She can see it, now, for the mask that it is, a facade of happiness and emotion, and maybe he _does_ feel something for her, but she cannot bring herself to believe it anymore. After an hour of quiet and meaningless conversation Kali realises that he is not going to talk to her about his meeting with Hecate. She realises that he is not going to tell her the truth that she discovered.

The goddess knows that she should confront him about what she has heard. She knows that she should _ask_ him, demand the truth from him, but there is the piece of her that deals in the politics of her kind. By allowing Loki to pursue a relationship with her she has brought a rise of status for him, by leaving him she will throw him right to the bottom of the food chain once more. By not mentioning what she now knows she will be able to save the information until such a time as she can make better use of it. Until such a time as the powerful creatures finally embark upon that apocalypse which will ruin the world and an archangel will be of use to her one way or the other.

"What are we doing, Loki?" She asks him, interrupting the flow of ceaseless chatter.

"What do you mean?" He responds but it is in the cold tone that she heard him use when talking about Michael. It is almost like he has forgotten that he is not an angel here, he is _Loki_. He is Loki and Loki was a liar and a trouble maker. Loki is one that she should never have fallen for.

"This," she gestures to the room that screams of all her personality while there is none of his. The room decorated in pink, red, and gold silks, mirrors of brilliantly burnished copper cover one wall and leave a wavering reflection of them as Gabriel watches her. It is Gabriel that she is dealing with now, not Loki, never Loki, and Gabriel is infinitely more dangerous. Gabriel is unknown. "Us, Loki, we've done what we set out to achieve, why continue this charade?"

"Just _what_ did you set out to achieve, Kali?" He demands, folding his arms over his chest even though he cannot meet her eyes. It is almost like he has prepared for this, that he expected the words to come one day.

"Distractions, chaos," she waves a hand negligently even though she knows she is tearing out her heart. "I've shaken up the power among us, risen just enough to make a difference in my importance among us. I have everything I need, Loki, and that means I no longer need you."

The words are hard, callous, designed to hurt and she sees that they do from the way that he falters. Certainly Gabriel has come to emulate Loki's arrogance perfectly, the trickster god would never have believed that a woman could walk away from him either.

"I want you to leave," she tells him. "I don't need you anymore, I have no reason to need you, you've served your purpose."

"I love you, Kali," he responds, not desperate, factual. It is a truth that cuts so viciously into her that she cannot help but throw something back that will hurt him even more.

"No, Loki, you don't. You've never been capable of it."

She does not have to wait long after that for him to vanish, taking his few belongings with him. Once she is alone, however, the strong facade crumbles and she feels a sob bubble in her chest. Gabriel is not the only one who betrayed her, she realises in that moment, Hecate has too.

Kali may not be able to hurt the hidden archangel anymore that she already has, but _Hecate_ is fair game and will bear the brunt of the destroyer's vengeance.

_I'll be honest, this chapter made me hurt a little bit for all of them; Kali, Hecate and Gabriel. It was also depressingly easy to write. Sad isn't it?_

_Artemis  
_


	12. Aftermath

_Has it really been two weeks since I last updated? Damn, time flies. Of course it would, I'm packing up boxes and boxes of stuff to move house (half of it I didn't even know I _owned! _How bad is that?) So, anyway, moving throws off ones groove slightly... and deprives me of actual _time_ to write. Getting this chapter done has not been easy._

_Quick replies to the reviews I can't respond to: _

_**hecatefan:** I have a plan, believe it or not, that takes the episode that shall not be named into account. Seriously, I haven't rewatched that episode. Can't bring myself to. Joan was burnt at the stake so no Joan/Gabriel love, thankfully._

_**anon:** Of course he will!_

_**Kay:** Either the next chapter, or the one after. I've got everything but a name._

_**Tina:** Thank you, I always worry about writing about the interactions between the angels. There'll be more exploration of his family in later chapters because I really started this to flesh him out a little more. I worried about that passage between Gabriel and Hecate too, so I'm pleased you liked it._

_**Sandra:** See above response. I like playing with the family part, and the Gabriel bit, so I'm definitely using it more in the future.  
_

Chapter Eleven: Aftermath.

Gabriel's visit has left Hecate with a great deal to consider. Though the bond forged between them all those years ago has weakened and frayed over the decades, it still clings to existence. That bond bothers her, it should have broken as soon as Gabriel and Kali had tumbled into bed together. The only reason it could still exist is if one or other of them were still clinging to it.

She is almost certain that it is not her.

Still, there are advantages to still being bonded to Gabriel and when she feels the shudder run through it she is quick to make her excuses to Anubis and make her way to Gabriel's favoured safe house. He is not there, not yet, and the building is cold, the fire long dead and dust coating the furniture. Hecate waves a hand, cleans the room, settles into a chair and does not have to wait long for her friend to arrive.

He is wide eyed when he turns up and for a moment Hecate thinks that he has been to see Joan, that he has discovered the truth behind the French girl's voices. It takes only a moment to realise how wrong she is when he meets her eyes.

"Did you tell her?" She demands, the first thing that occurs to her, the only reason for the haunted agony in his golden eyes.

"Is that _all_ you're concerned about?" He snaps. "Is your precious hide all that bothers you?" The words are harder than she expects and yet nothing more than she deserves.

"No, _idiot_, it's _you_ I'm worried about," she hisses in response and he glares at her, arms folded over his chest. "I don't want to come here one day and find you with an angel killing blade in your chest. _Hades_, Gabriel, is it so terrible to think that I _care_ about what happens to you?"

"Oh? And _why_ would anyone?" She flinches. "My own brothers didn't care enough about me to see how much their betty bickering hurt me. Kali loved _Loki_, she never saw the real me! My own _Father_ just let me up and leave with no word, no call, no attempt at consolation! If he couldn't love me enough to get over his grief and stop me, then how can _anyone_?"

"Self pity doesn't suit you, Gabriel," Hecate's voice is cold, her hands snapping up to grasp at muscular arms as she steadies him, then watching calmly as he wrenches himself away from her.

"I..." he stops, settles heavily into one of the chairs and puts his head in his hands. Hecate watches in silence, not moving as he struggles to put his thoughts in order. "_Father_," the word is a plea, the soft cry of a frightened child. "She kicked me out, Hecate. I didn't get a chance to tell her."

Now she does follow him, kneeling on the thick carpet that covers cold stone so that she can rest her hands on his thighs. He does not take his hands away from his face, she can feel him trembling beneath her fingers as he fights for control of himself. This is _her_ fault, she realises, pushing him away when she should have invited him in. Hecate could have given him what he wanted, what she knows he _needed_, and instead she ignored it. She pushed him towards another she knew would hurt the archangel, one she knew would abandon him.

Gabriel wants a family, _needs_ a family, craves the love that his Father once showed him.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," she tells him and he slides to the floor, slipping into her embrace and she knows that she should push him away because she can feel Anubis calling on the fringes of her awareness. She does not. She holds him tight to her, feels his fingers dig painfully into her back, and runs her own through his hair as she teases it from the braid that holds it in place. He does not cry, Hecate believes that he will _never_ gain the ability to do that, but he does seek the comfort that she offers as she holds him. It goes against her better judgement, ignoring the call of her lover in favour of her friend, but right now she is willing to cast all thought of politics aside. She owes Gabriel that much. It will not aid her reputation, and it will certainly not help her strained relationship with Anubis.

If Anubis were to leave her now, her best bet would be to turn her back on Loki entirely so that his damaged reputation does not drag her under. Hecate is loyal to those she considers a true friend, however, and she will not leave him. She stays until Gabriel stops shaking, until he pulls away from her with a shuddering breath and thanks her with a smile that does not reach his eyes. Instead he seems to burn with malice and anger. This is not going to be a good time for the prideful occupants of the world. All he will need is the slightest of excuses. She hopes that many will give them to him.

SPN

The years continue to move on, Gabriel throws himself into his work with a malice that reeks of a desperation to forget. He does not want to remember the long nights in Kali's arms, does not want to remember the love that he felt for her. It is a love that he still feels, even if it fails to burn as brightly as the years pass.

Hecate spends ever increasing amounts of time with him, her relationship with Anubis faltering until it finally fails at a midwinter party when she walks in on Freyja and the jackal in a somewhat compromising position. Such a public act of betrayal does untold damage to Hecate's position among the others, that neither of the pagans would fear her wrath shows others that she is barely worth considering. Not even _Kali_ rallies to comfort her and Gabriel curses the politics that have hurt them all so badly.

He does not wonder for a moment if there is any other reason that Kali would turn on Hecate in such a way.

Gabriel enjoys his time with Hecate. They fight and they bicker, some years more than others, and there is still that underlying warm feeling that has simmered for centuries, but neither acts on it. Neither feels the need to. The triple goddess feeds well while Gabriel is working out his frustration, while the rage of Loki courses through him and burns away all but the smallest ghost of the archangel he once was. It almost hurts to lose himself in this way.

He almost wishes that it did not.

He returns to their safe house late one morning, having spent a night in the company of a dark haired woman who made up for her lack of experience with her enthusiasm, to find the great room empty and cold. Something pulses through him, that same dragging and nagging feeling that has bothered him all night, it is almost as though the pieces of Hecate and Loki in him _itch_.

The spark of power that is Hecate has always been clearer to him than the others, even than Kali ever was, and it takes a moment of thought for him to find her. She is at a crossroads, arms folded over her chest as she faces two people. One is a common woman, eyes red with tears and a track of blood dripping slowly from her lips. The other is tall, beautiful, and surrounded by darkness and hate. This is not the first demon that Gabriel has encountered in his years as Loki, it will not even be the first that he has destroyed, but this is the first time that he has seen one encroaching on Hecate's turf. He had not realised, before, just how bad it had gotten for the triple goddess.

"This is cozy," he comments as he steps out of the tree line. Hecate does not even startle and it makes him wonder if she senses him with the same ease that he does her.

"What are you doing here, Loki?" Hecate demands, voice hard though her eyes do not waver from the demon.

"Little bird told me you might be in a bit of trouble, old friend. I thought I'd lend a hand."

"I can handle a demon," she points out.

"I know, but I can do it better," he grins at his friend and she sighs, hand twitching as though she is reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"You aren't a part of this, Trickster," the demon hisses, her eyes burning red for a moment as she glances away from the goddess. Hecate grins in triumph as she takes advantage of the lapse, lunging forward to drive a blade between the ribs of the woman the demon wears.

Gabriel sees the blood soaked stake before Hecate does, sees the demon shift and knows what she is going to do. He does not shout, does not think, he simply reacts; blurring from his position by the tree as he conjures the simulacrum of himself in front of Hecate and allowing it to take the blow. The sound of Hecate's scream of rage fills his ears as he slips from the crossroads, he does not need to be here and the demon does not need to see him. Hecate can handle this now and she is not going to be happy with him when she gets back to the safe house. The only thing he can do is wait for her to conclude whatever bargain she was making and let her vent her displeasure.

For a brief moment he considers just not being there when she returns. He knows that it is useless, she has always been able to locate him eventually whether he wants her to or not, and so he waits.

"What in _Hades_ was _that_?" She spits when she appears an hour later. Gabriel studies her, the way that her eyes flash and her hair has worked loose of the multitude of pins and chains she has used to secure it.

"I just saved your _life_, Hecate, there's no need to thank me," he mutters, not bothering to get up out of his seat. She is going to rant at him, scream and probably throw things, but he is determined that he is not going to rise to it this time. The last time he did she did not speak to him for three years.

"If you hadn't interfered it wouldn't have been necessary, Gabriel!"

"I'll remember that for the next time I see a stake come your way," he replies. The tension between them is mounting and everything in him is screaming for him to snap, to confront her with the same aggression.

"Did you even _think_?" She hisses. "That thing could have killed you!"

"I'm not one of you, Hecate, stakes don't have the same effect," he points out and is rewarded with a fresh tirade.

He listens to her swear at him for a while, the way that she bites off curses in a dozen languages, and it makes him wonder if there is something more to her anger. It hits him rather suddenly as she rants, as she throws a simple clay plate across the room; she was scared for him. He snaps up a bowl of grapes to eat and hide his smirk behind. Hecate cares about him far more than she is willing to let on.

After all the disappointments he has suffered at the hands of his family and the goddess he dared to love, this is a spark of warmth.

"Are you quite finished?" He asks when she goes silent, tendrils of black and red magic snarling around her. "Do you want to hear my side of things now?"

"Fine," she snarls, "lets hear the excuse."

"I like having you around," he tells her after a moment. "I don't _trust_ you," he adds, "I'm not completely stupid." The hard edges have not left her eyes as he speaks and after the briefest flash of a superior smirk his face settles into something more serious. "You're the closest thing I've _got_ to a family now, Hecate, I'm not about to let that slip by."

Her smile is shy, almost surprised by his admission. Gabriel snaps his fingers again.

"Massage?" He asks and she laughs as he leads her to the tall, muscular, young man he has created for just such a purpose.

_So my frustrations may have coloured their interactions slightly. Not really all that much of a surprise, to be honest. _

_Artemis  
_


	13. Elizabeth

_Real life is a pain, there's so much to do at the moment and it's taking up so much time it's hard to get to write. I'm getting there slowly though and the colder nights mean that I' very inclined to wrap up and write more so hopefully my time will become more my own soon. As for this chapter; it was starting to head towards longer and longer and I figured I should split it in two rather than rush through things. There's also a reference to Labyrinth in here, but mostly because I had it on while writing this and it seemed to fit the thought. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!_

_Review responses again for those I can't reply to directly:_

_**Sandra:** It probably has more to do with the fact that I like to make Gabriel suffer. He's a funny character, but to me it's almost as though the humour is covering up the loneliness he feels at being without his family._

_**Tina: **You're welcome! Here you go._

_**X5:** It was more of a push and a reaction to the hurt than anything. Don't give up on Gabe entirely. _

_**Deanna:** I'm glad, thank you.  
_

Chapter Twelve: Elizabeth.

This is easily the coldest winter that Elizabeth can remember, though if her father is in his cups when he arrives home he will tell her that nineteen summers of experience counts for spit. She shivers under her tattered dress and pulls her poorly made shawl tighter about her shoulders. The temptation is to throw another log on the small fire that offers the tiniest amount of heat, but to do so would deplete their already dwindling supply and she knows she cannot trust her father to do anything about that when he returns.

Besides, the man is far more interested in the blasphemies of spirits and monsters than he is in his own family.

One of these days, Elizabeth knows, he will be tried as a witch and he will drag his ailing wife and daughter with him. If either live that long. Winter is seemingly endless, money is tight, game is scarce. There is little for a mother who wastes away and a daughter whose family is so poor they cannot give her a dowery. The meagre amount of vegetables from their garden will not last them much longer and Elizabeth's dress hangs and sags where a poor diet and lack of sustenance has robbed her of curves and left her skeletal.

In the corner her mother coughs, the sound a harsh tear of flesh and liquid. The top of the blankets she is wrapped in are spattered with blood, some old and brown, some fresh and vibrant red. Elizabeth knows that the woman will not survive much longer. The child in her grieves for the parent she will lose, the selfish being reasons that with her mother gone there will be more food, more money where it is needed.

She whispers a prayer for forgiveness.

The sun is beginning to set when someone knocks on the door. Elizabeth is stirring a bubbling pot of water, shrivelled carrots, old potatoes and rabbit meat. The rabbit was skinny and she knows that if the person at the door is her father there will not be enough to feed the three of them. Still, she takes the vegetable knife in hand and goes to open the door.

There is a man there, and this is not one of the men from the village. He is a traveller with a heavy woolen cloak caught at his throat with a broach of silver and a sturdy leather pack on his back. The sword belted at his hip gleams in the light of the setting sun and it is like nothing that she has seen on the men and soldiers she commonly encounters. This is not one of the hardened hunters that sometimes call for her father, this man is well dressed, well kept. His pale brown hair is caught back in a careful plait and his beard is neatly trimmed. His golden eyes seem to sparkle with humour and fire, wit and caprice and a _power_ like she has never seen before.

When he asks for a place by the fire for the night his voice _drips_ with magic and danger. The feeling of such power draws her to him, excites her, _terrifies _her. Still, she knows that she cannot deny him a place at the hearth. She also knows that she should; her father is from home, her mother is dying. She is unmarried, as good as alone, and can think of no better distraction from her cares.

"What's your name?" She asks as he arranges his blankets in the least drafty corner he can find.

"Patrick," there is a smile in the response, a brightening of his eyes that tells her that he is not being entirely honest.

"No it isn't," the words are out of her mouth before she has even thought about them. She cringes, knowing that they are rude and unable to take it back.

"A name has power, little one," he laughs and the sound is danger, "and it should only be given in truth to those in whom you have complete faith."

"You talk like one of the Faerie," she whispers, taking a step closer to him though every part of her screams at her to run from this strange man. Every part of her screams that she should tell him to leave, to get out of her home, that he is not welcome. The piece of her that is her father's daughter wants to know more, wants to be closer.

"You have a great deal of experience, I take it," he smirks, the expression cruel behind his neat beard and sparkling eyes. "Have you spoken to many Fae in your short life time?" The tone that he takes grates on her, it makes her want to demand to know what makes him so special. She does not, backs down from him as she has her father when he has taken such a tone with her.

"No, I... it's not what I meant," Elizabeth sighs and rubs a hand across her face. She does not know why she is letting this stranger get to her, this strange man who's eyes twinkle with malice and sorrow. "My da always told me I should know the stories, that's all."

"Your father is a sensible man," the stranger concedes. Elizabeth pulls a face and turns back to the thin stew that she is cooking.

Perhaps she misjudged the amount she had put in the pot. Perhaps there is enough for the stranger, Patrick, to eat as well. She offers him a share and is surprised when he declines, telling her that he prefers to rest for the night. The intensity of his presence, the way he pulls at her even though she knows he is not to be trusted, makes her thankful that he is not lingering to talk to her any longer. Still, part of her wishes for the company for even a brief moment.

She rises early the next morning, drawn out of a restless night by the sound of her mother's ragged coughs. The older woman is pale, shivering despite the sweat on her brow, half open eyes glassy with fever. Elizabeth smooths a rough hand over burning hot skin, lingering for a moment as the warmth returns to her fingers, then goes to the fire. It has burnt down during the night, little remaining but half glowing embers. It takes longer than she would like to build back up again, using tiny pieces of wood and years of practice, but she finally has a blaze strong enough that she can make a basic breakfast.

In the corner Patrick snuffles slightly in his sleep and for some reason it makes her think of the tiny jar of honey she has hidden in the wall. They cannot afford honey, not by a long shot, but finding a bee hive in their roof that summer had yielded such unexpected gold. She has hidden it in the same place she has hidden what little money she can keep from her father. Their morning meal, a thin gruel of oats and water, will be sweetened with that honey, she decides.

This time when she offers a share of the meal to Patrick, he accepts.

SPN

Gabriel knows that it is easy enough for him to spend his time in idle recreation as the pagans do. Even Hecate, with her seeming ability to remain still and quiet for hours, has been known to take on any number of meaningless tasks just to occupy her mind as the demands of her followers become less. Gabriel is rather less capable of that, preferring to wander through the rambling countryside and explore gradually expanding villages and towns in search of someone to punish for a multitude of sins. It keeps his mind from the past and the pains that he finds there. Gabriel was never made to be idle.

The village he reaches as the sun is setting is tiny, so small that it does not have a proper inn. This is not a real problem, he can just as easily return to his safe house for the night and continue on his chosen path in the morning. The former archangel does not _need_ sleep as mortals do and pagans enjoy, but it is an enjoyable diversion on occasion. Particularly when he can find a woman to distract throughout the long night hours and if that fails he can always _make_ one.

This time something else has caught his attention, the faintest ripple of a heartfelt prayer. Those always feel different, the heartfelt variety. Over the decades he has become good at ignoring the constant tingle on his skin that comes from the prayers of so called faithful across the planet. He has even been able to come to find a sort of comfort in it, in knowing that he truly understands how little his Father cares about this mass of land and water and the people crawling over it. Familiarity, he realises, has bred a great deal of contempt.

This prayer, however, has caught his attention, whether due to proximity or boredom he does not know, and he follows the sense of it until he finds a small hut. Though she is not present, has not been for some time, Hecate's scent is strong here, very much so, and it leads him to conclude that this must be the home of one of the hunters that she has laid claim to. The prayer, however, does not come from that man. It comes, he realises, from the woman who opens the door. She is young, emaciated, russet hair limp and hanging in snarls down her back. Her grey green eyes are guarded, wary, and she holds the knife like she knows how to use it as more than just for cutting vegetables.

The reason for her half whispered prayers is immediately obvious when he sees her mother and the thin soup over the fire. Simply the way that she stands and the haggard expression on her face as he settles himself for the night is enough of a clue about the hardship she is suffering. It is enough to tell him that while she does not want an _easier_ life, as such, she wants a lessening of the difficulties that plague her existence.

It is not something that he can give her, but he is intrigued by her all the same.

Unlike many women of her status, she is not entirely uneducated. The simplest touch to her mind as she rests tells him that she has been taught a great deal about folklore. While this will never do much to advance her in the eyes of her peers or betters, it is enough for him to consider her to be a more interesting conversationalist than many of the women that he meets. Still, she is human, she is female, and his blankets can be remarkably lonely at night. It is the fact that she recognises the danger he represents that prevents him from pushing at her. Most women fling themselves at him, this woman, girl, is wary. She is careful of him.

If anyone asks he will tell them that she was not worth the effort.

In truth he finds that he wants to know more of her. She is caring for a mother too ill to survive the day, he can see death all but hovering over the older woman now. This girl runs a house on almost nothing, deals with a father too much of a hunter and a drunk to provide for them, and yet all she seems to want is for a moment of her own, a moment of company where she does not have to fight. It does not take long for him to notice the similarities to his own life and he thinks that it is _this_ which draws his interest.

Gabriel accepts the offer of breakfast, even though it is little more than honey sweetened gruel, and consumes it with brilliantly concealed distaste. If this is what she has been eating all of her life it is little wonder that the girl wants something better. He has not asked her name he realises, though he knows it, and he knows that if he asks she will lie, just as their conversation has taught her to. Instead he offers her a gift as he leaves, one that he hopes she will never have need of.

"In your moment of greatest need, little one," he tells her as he hands her the polished piece of amethyst, "hold it tight and call my name. I will come."

"I don't even _know_ your name," she protests, voice soft and grey green eyes wide. "How can I call you if I don't know your name."

"You will when you need it," he tells her, brushing his fingers against her forehead in a physical gesture that represents the burying of his name in her subconscious. She shivers under his touch, calloused fingers closing over the stone reflexively.

"Why?" She asks as he pins his cloak shut at the door, pausing to secure his pack. "Why give me this?"

"Payment for kindness, you shared the little you have with me and I would be a poor man if I didn't give you something," he can tell that she does not believe him, that she is sceptical about the power he has given her and the promise he is making. It is fortunate that he learnt his lesson from the Goblin King years ago, that he learnt never to give his true name to a stranger.

Gabriel leaves before she can refuse it.

He does not so much forget her as he pushes her to the back of his mind. The archangel spends the next six months wandering the continent in search of people to trick and games to play. He likes this life, he decides, this time without the demands of his family and the _need_ to be looked on in pride by his Father and siblings. This is just him, just his sense of humour and his needs and his wants. It is fantastic.

When he hears her calling it comes as something of a surprise. The name that he implanted into her mind was that of the pagan he is masquerading as, Gabriel is as accustomed to responding to Loki as he is to his own name. The sound of her voice it high, terrified, the fear enough to break through all the walls that he placed between her conscious ability to want to call for him and the knowledge of the name she would need. He takes a moment to think before abandoning his current project, the brothel will still be here in a couple of days and the patrons will still be drugged and robbed.

He snaps his fingers and is at her home.

The first thing that he notices is that Hecate's presence around the grounds is more powerful than it was the last time he was here. The second is that the feeling of imminent death has altered. This is not the death of sickness, this is violence. Something is wrong enough in this place to make even him feel nauseous and there is only one creation that he has come across that can cause this reaction.

Vampires.

Gabriel does not often encounter them, though vampires have grown more plentiful over the years his path does not usually cross with theirs. It is somewhat unnerving to think that the source of young Elizabeth's distress is a creature he has little experience in dealing with. Still, it is not like Gabriel is completely clueless and vampires are easy enough for a pagan to dispatch. An archangel masquerading as a pagan will have no problems at all and he does not allow himself a moment more of hesitation.

It is a pack, probably the sole remaining few, and they have cornered the girl. It is summer now and even through the fear she looks more healthy, curves starting to fill the once sagging folds of her dress. Sickness is notably absent from the feel of the room and as he removes the head of the first vampire he places himself between the pack and the girl. His blood sings, his grace cries out to him to show these creatures the true might of an archangel and for a moment he is tempted, so very tempted, to do just that. It takes a monumental amount of effort to restrain himself from following through. Killing them is not something that takes much effort, however, a number of the pack members are young and others were poorly trained, they are no match for an archangel or a god.

He feels elated when they are surrounded with bodies, Elizabeth crushed tight to his chest, and when he presses his lips against hers she returns the kiss with fervour. It is not until much later that he considers the carnage around them and the primal nature of this coupling. It is not until _much_ later that it occurs to him to ask what had drawn the vampires here in the first place and _why_ the impression of Hecate's presence is so very strong.

_Hmm, my screen has been over run by mini-Sherlocks, Johns and Moriartys while reading through this. This is not a good thing and will need a clean up. Long for a Castiel and a Dean shimeji now though._

_Artemis  
_


	14. Hunter

_Wow, gosh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry this has taken me so long. I've been finding it really hard to write lately and really hard to find the time to do it as well. Then I lost my voice and had to come home from work sick and this was the result. Please read the author's note at the end of this, I appear to need some reader guidance. As for the rest of it, I've got a convention coming up this weekend, meeting Misha again so my brain is slowly liquefying as I type. I can't promise that all of this will be hugely coherent._

Chapter Thirteen: Hunter.

Gabriel has learnt many things about hunters in his time, even before Elizabeth. He knows that after their night together he should have left her home and never returned, he knows that getting close to the girl is foolish. No more foolish, however, than allowing a heated moment and a fight with vampires as an excuse to take her last remaining innocence from her.

"What happened to your mother?" He asks her, aware by now that the older woman should have long since made her presence known.

"She died, not long after you left," there is no emotion to the girl's voice, no light or brilliance. There is only resignation. Gabriel looks down at her, wrapping an arm tight about her shoulders as she shudders against him from the cold air that caresses her bare skin.

"And Hecate?" He whispers, not able to ignore the strong sense of his friend's recent visit any longer.

"Protection, Da taught me the symbols," she turns her face into his chest as a blush comes to her cheeks. "We live at a crossroads, you see, Da always said that we would need protection from the demons that lurk here."

The remains of an old road are visible outside, Gabriel had barely noted them his first time here and was too distracted this time to pay them much heed. Now that he thinks about it, though, he can see the reasoning behind Elizabeth's actions, following her father's footsteps in protecting the house. The ancient significance of a crossroad does not simply end because a better road with a better bridge has been built a little further away. That Hecate would come to ensure that the wards were in place around the house herself is something more of a mystery, but for the fact that the father of the woman he now holds tight against him is one of her hunters.

"The vampires?" He adds, certain that if there is something more sinister at work here it would have been mentioned.

"Is that what they were?" She queries, curling tight against him. Gabriel ignores the fact that they had fallen asleep surrounded by bodies, that it is long gone time to do something about them. "They said Da killed most of their family, they said they would take from him what he did from them."

Scent led them in, then, just as it nearly always has done with their kind. It leaves only the matter of what he will do with the bodies, of what he will do with Elizabeth. He has expended a great deal of energy protecting her, more than he has any other, it would be a shame for all of that to go to waste now.

"Are you happy?" He asks her. She shifts away from him a little.

"The parson says women weren't put on this earth to be happy, sir," she whispers. Such blatant misinterpretation of his Father's word makes something in Gabriel seethe for a moment before he brings it back under control. He has not cared about such opinions for many centuries and it is foolish for him to begin caring now. He has done many foolish things this day.

"It's not what I asked," he replies.

"I know, and I'm not. This is all I've ever known, sir, it's all I have a right to expect." Elizabeth shifts, moves away from him and reaches for her dress.

"I could make you happy," he replies and is thankful for her turned back as his face creases a little in confusion, as he wonders where that offer came from.

"I won't be a kept woman, be you Faerie or man, I've shamed myself enough."

She is unusual, he concludes. Any other woman would have been making demands of him, assumed he was proposing at least to marry her. This woman has seen all that she wishes to in the situation and has prepared herself for a fall. He finds that he can admire that.

"I think that you should be gone from here by the time that Da returns," she whispers, staring at the destruction around her. He snaps his fingers twice, dressing himself with one and taking care of the bodies with the other. She startles, drawing her arms tight about her as her grey green eyes stare at him in something like fear.

"You don't have to be frightened of me," he steps close to her again, reaching a hand out to touch her cheek and she shies away. "If I meant to hurt you, believe me, you would already have known it."

"I don't find that comforting," she mutters, still careful to keep an arms length between them. He smirks at her, careful to keep his face a mask of utter confidence and she withdraws from him further. "What are you?" The demand is not unexpected. "What is your real name?"

"Loki," he expects confusion, expects her to question the name, instead she nods.

"One of the old gods," there is a moment of silence. "I must ask you to leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes, leave. Are you unfamiliar with the word? Do you not know what it means? He can feel his anger rising, can feel the need to defend himself though he knows that she fears him. She has no right to reject him now, not after he has saved her life. He clenches his fists, drawing himself up so that he towers over her and if he enhances the body to make it that little bit more intimidating no one shall ever know. She takes another step away from him, not so much scared as worried. Elizabeth takes a breath, lowering her chin into her chest as she moves away from him, halting, shuddering.

"You've taken enough from me, don't you think?" She asks, shattering the silence. "Why take anything else?"

"You could have asked me to stop at any time," he points out.

"Would you have?" She responds, eyes narrowed. "I don't think you would."

"Don't forget, Elizabeth, _you_ called _me_."

"I was frightened."

"You were foolish," because he is certain that her father taught her never to trust the gifts of the Fae. He only wishes that he knew what it was he finds so fascinating about her. Why it is that she plays on his thoughts. That she does not respond to his words is enough to tell him that she understands his meaning. Gabriel considers moving close to her again, considers pushing his advantage but something stops him. He came to this place at first because of the purity of a prayer. He helped her as thanks for hospitality. He does not want to become so like the pagan he is impersonating. He does not want to forget that once he was capable of gentleness towards a human.

"You will see me again," he promises before he snaps his fingers. Besides, she is pretty, he gets lonely and while she may not realise it yet; she belongs to him now. He has taken her last innocence.

SPN

He does not see her again for months, determined to distract himself from this girl who has captured his imagination. Quite why that is remains a mystery to him. In his years he has encountered countless dozens of young human women, some have flung themselves at him, others have accepted his advances a little more reluctantly. Most pay him little heed at all, and honestly he tends to like it that way, the unwilling girls are rare, and usually relating to a sacrifice in any case.

Elizabeth is no different from so many others. There is no brilliance to her beauty, as there is with Hecate and Kali both, little intelligence to distinguish her above the rest, but her _soul_; something about her soul sings to him, _calls_ to him. If he believed in such things he would risk considering the theory that the foolish human notion of soul mates was actually a possibility. Gabriel knows better, angels are not permitted to love humans in such a way. They are not permitted to have soul mates.

They are not permitted much of anything really, and that may be one of the reasons that Lucifer found the creation of mankind so hard. The angels did not have much of their own, but they had the love that was meant purely for their Father. Having to put that to one side had been hard, even for Gabriel, he never took a moment to think how it must have been for Lucifer who loved their Father so very keenly. They do not have the freedom of will, the freedom of love, that the humans do. They cannot find this so called soul mate that humans so crave, no angel can.

Except, maybe, one who has walked into the world of his own accord.

Gabriel goes to see Elizabeth again, at first insisting that he is ensuring that all his hard work has not been for nothing. Insisting that he only wants to make sure she is still alive. He tells her that the second and third time as well. It still scares him how easily the lies come. Soon the visits are once a month, twice a month, three times. Not long after that they are once a week and he barely notices when the visits become every day, all the hours of every night spent teaching her the pleasures that he has learnt in his long existence.

Gabriel's own work suffers, he loses interest in punishing the souls of the arrogant. His fantastical life of illusionary women and egotistical gods and Faerie is ignored in favour of this simple one. He teaches Elizabeth about herbs and herbal healings. He teaches her the very basics of the witchcraft that Hecate encourages, by night he teaches her to worship him, by day he brings her closer to his dearest friend.

Eventually the others notice, they _have_ to notice and Hecate is the one to step in. Hecate is the one to question.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, Loki?" She corners him in the cottage while Elizabeth is out meeting with the local women. Her eyes are fixated on the sigil drawn in blood and herbs on the back of the door, the sigil calling on the triple goddess for protection.

"I don't know what you mean," he smirks, watching her trace long fingers over the sign as tendrils of power the same colour as her red black hair dance around her.

"Don't be deliberately _dense_. You're playing a dangerous game, the girl, and if _I've_ noticed, I promise you that the others are beginning to."

"You can't tell me that you've never taken a human lover before," he points out scornfully, because he knows the truth of it in the same way that all the others do. Hecate is no blushing virgin, not in reality.

"Of course, for the odd night here and there, they get _dull_ after that," Hecate's grin is predatory. "I certainly haven't kept one for three years before."

"Three years?" He questions. He had not noticed how much time was passing. In truth, when one is immortal one has no real need of time.

"You hadn't noticed?" She asks and frowns in concern when he turns to her with wide eyes. The bafflement on his face is, she realises, utterly genuine.

"I think I've done something really stupid," he admits, sitting on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs by the fire place and staring moodily into the flames.

"More so than usual?" She queries and it is as though she is trying to inject a little lightness into the situation. She squeezes his shoulder gently as he puts his head into his hands.

"I think I've fallen in love with her," he whispers and the hand on his shoulder stills.

"You're an idiot," she says after a moment, "such a complete idiot. After everything, after _Kali_." There is a disbelief and a devastation to her voice that he cannot place, cannot understand. "She's _mortal_, Gabriel, you have to understand what that means."

He does, Father help him, he understands exactly what Hecate is referring to. She is mortal, she will get old, she will die and he will be able to do _nothing_ to stop it. He will be forced to watch or he will be forced to leave and with the news Elizabeth gave him that morning leaving is less of an option than Hecate knows.

"I know," he mutters.

"You have to leave, you must know that," Hecate touches her other hand to his hair, a gesture meant to be comforting but it only serves to remind him of just how deep he is in this.

"I can't, it's more complicated than you know."

"I've been in love, Loki, I know how what it's like. I know how hard it is," she moves around to kneel in front of him, for once ignoring the ash and dirt that will stain her dress. "But it's only _her_, my friend, you're not abandoning an entire family. You won't feel that pain." He does not respond, does not try to meet her eyes. "Gabriel? Please tell me she isn't." The archangel still does not answer. "When did you find out?"

"This morning. I can't leave her, Hecate, I can't leave our child. I can't believe you would even ask me that!"

"You're being stupid," she pulls away from him, seeming to shut down every gentle emotion she has ever shown him. "It's one thing for demi-gods to be produced left, right and centre over the years, but have you given any thought to _life_ that child will have? Children of gods are doomed to a life of trials and misery trapped between two worlds. You know that."

"What are you saying?" He demands, because this is not a woman telling him to leave Elizabeth. Her words are implying something else.

"Of all your kind, you know best you're Father's opinions on the offspring of angel and human woman," Hecate turns her back on him. Whatever she is about to say, she cannot bare to look at him as she does so. "You've done so well, Gabriel, are you going to let all these centuries slide because you've been stupid enough to father a child? What if your brothers find out? What if you Father finds out? They'll kill you, they'll kill her, they'll kill the baby."

"So you think I should do it first?" He demands, getting to his feet and spinning her round to face him, holding her shoulders tight enough to bruise and she hisses at him. "You think I'm going to _kill_ her because _you_ say so?"

"No," she struggles weakly against him. "You're hurting me, Gabriel, please. Please, you have to know that if they come looking for you, your family will come looking for those of us who helped you. You kill the baby, you kill her, or you _stay away_. You don't have a choice, if that baby survives it will be a danger to all of us."

"I can't, I won't," their faces are close together, unnecessary breaths mingling as she fights against him. "I _love_ her, Hecate."

_And here we reach the problem. Do I kill both Elizabeth and the baby, just the baby, neither of them and make Gabriel leave or have Gabriel stay until at least the baby is born. It's up to you._

_Artemis  
_


	15. Deceit

_First of all, I'm so very, very, unbelievably sorry that this has taken so long to reach you all. I got rather involved in NaNo and I was going to follow last years pattern and write a little of each every day. Then the virus ate my computer. Pretty much literally. It's not the first that's managed to sneak past all my defences and I doubt it will ever be the last, but it completely destroyed the operating system and it took nearly two weeks to get it back. I drove myself to finish my NaNo, which I did, and then set about resolving the cliffhanger that I left you all with. Can you possibly forgive me?_

Chapter Fourteen: Deceit_._

"You have to do something," Hecate informs him after a moment of thought. He stares at her, still conscious of the way that his hands dig into her shoulders and he_ does not know what to do_. This is hardly the first time that he has been in such a situation, where he needs to think on his feet and has been caught without the first clue on how to proceed. It _is_ the first time that the life of someone he is _close_ to has been involved.

"Tell me," he whispers, "tell me what to do."

"If you won't kill her, and you won't kill the child, you have to leave. You have no choice," the response is not the one that he wants to hear, it is not something that he wants to contemplate having to do.

"I can't do that, you have to know I can't do that," he pushes away from her, hearing her head connect with the wall and her exclamation of pain. It is not the first time that he has used his strength against her, it probably will not be the last either, and he feels a twinge of guilt at the thought that he has caused her pain. Gabriel pushes it down in favour of focussing on the _reason_ that she drove him to react this way in the first place. It is not right that he takes his frustrations out on her, but at the same time he knows that she can take it. He knows that she would lash out at him in return if she thought it was worth it.

"I know and it's going to get her killed," Hecate snaps. "I'm not the only one who has noticed and much as you would like to ignore it, Loki has his own enemies to worry about. They've noticed as well and the more attached you seem to be to her the more likely they are to target her. Do the best thing, turn your back, _please_."

This is not the first time that Hecate has begged him to do something, it _is_, however, the first time that Gabriel has realised just how much he truly hates it. In fact, he loathes to see her reduced to this; a woman who has no choice but to beg him for the one thing that she knows he will not be able to do, not even for the safety of his own child.

"Who will protect them? If I leave? The backlash from the village would be terrible," he points out, hoping to appeal to the part of Hecate that is this woman's true goddess. Hoping to appeal to the side of his friend that wants to preserve the lives of all her followers, even the ones who fall in with the wrong deities.

"Don't do that," she tells him and he knows that she has seen straight through him. "Don't try and pull that one on me." Hecate shakes her head after a moment of thought. "I really hate you sometimes."

It is with those words that he knows that she will help him, that he has successfully manipulated her into doing things his way for the first time since he has known her. It does not feel like a victory. There is a hollowness to this and he wonders why it is that he cannot seem to have the things he wants, the people he wants, without it ending in disaster.

"Thank you," the words are bitter on his tongue.

"Oh, don't thank me yet," Hecate snaps. "You want me to protect this girl which means we are going to do this _my_ way." Gabriel raises an eyebrow at her. "Once you leave you will never see her again, I won't allow it. Are we clear?"

"I'm stronger than you, Hecate," he smirks, "you're hardly in a position to stop me." The reminder causes her to pause for a moment then there is a dark smile on her face and her hand brushes against the silver chain that dips down to her breasts.

"You've heard of binding spells?" She asks softly, reaching down to press her fingers to the vial of grace that she always carries there.

"Of course, but you need the blood of the person you intend to bind and I don't think you're fast enough to get any of... ah." He has almost completed his sentence before he remembers what she has of him, remembers the power that the grace she holds grants over him. "An unbreakable bond," he whispers and she smiles at him.

"I'd rather not have to use it," she replies.

"I should kill you."

"And what would you tell the others?" She snaps. "You want the girl safe, you want the child to live. The two are almost completely exclusive goals. I'm going to have to call in a favour to do this and you don't want to be here when I do. If this is going to work you leave now and you don't get to say goodbye. Am I clear?" For a long moment he wants to tell her that he will not agree to her terms, that he is offended by the very suggestion of them. It is a foolish though, however, to defy her in this. She has acquiesced to his demanded requests, though, and by arguing with her he knows that she could just as rapidly change her mind. If he argues the matter she could well bind him to her will anyway and the very idea of that makes everything in him scream. So he will agree quietly, but not without making a few of his own thoughts very clear.

"Crystal," he moves close to her again, leaning down so that he can mutter his next words into her ear. "I'll find her, no matter where you take her, and I'll never forgive you if you hurt her."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Hecate replies and he does not know whether she is referring to his threat or his promise. It is likely that she is talking about both and it does not reassure him much to think that she knows him so well.

The favour that Hecate is calling in is at least a thousand years old, one that she has been saving for an emergency and certainly not one that she was intending on using to pull Gabriel out of a sticky spot. She should have put a stop to all of this when she realised that the archangel was getting truly distracted by whatever skirt he had found. She should have considered stepping in sooner rather than waiting for him to come to her. Now it is all messed up and Gabriel's need for love and a family has over taken his usual instinct for self preservation. He has become a dear friend to her, it hurt to threaten him, but keeping him safe has to be her main priority.

Her major concern is that the child's blood links it to the father, there is a possibility that if one of the other gods gets hold of it they will use the baby to try and control Gabriel. That would be a disaster. The only reason that she knows she can trust this particular deity is that the favour he owes is a life debt. Janus is a twisted as they come these days, all but forgotten by the common people and largely ignored by scholars he lives on the scraps of thought that are thrown his way, the odd body that he can find. There are no sacrifices, no wishes to him for the turn of the year, just ignorance and forgetting. Janus slipped quicker than any of the others, his base of worshippers turning from him as the Christians took power. He went from respected and adored to almost forgotten. With no great legends to live on as tales of a so called uncivilised time, people forgot and the violent drop in worship twisted his mind. Not even the naming of a month for him could do much to help.

Hecate simply stopped him from being slaughtered by a disgruntled man after he discovered that the drunk in his barn was a slipped pagan deity. Using her favour on a human woman seems foolish but Hecate knows that she has to watch Gabriel closely now, and she cannot do that if she is watching the girl all the time. This was Gabriel's chance to have a family, the chance to know the agony of losing someone he loves to death. Hecate cannot afford for him to come to the attention of the others by spending all his time with his woman and child. None of them have ever stuck around to raise their get. None of them have ever been able to become concerned enough about it because they often view the children as unnecessary and inconsequential.

Children of gods, and likely angels, are doomed to suffering.

"Why protect her?" Janus demands when she explains what she wants done.

"Because Loki took something that was mine and tried to claim it for his own," she snaps a little petulantly, hoping that Janus assume that the anger in her voice is for the reason she claims and not down to the actual truth. That it is because she is jealous rather than angry. "Now I want something that's _his_ and his spawn will do just nicely."

Janus nods, a smile plastered across his face that says _I told you so_ louder than words possibly could. _I told you_ not to trust him, _I told you_ he would betray you, _I told you _he would take your belongings for his own. It is not what Hecate wants to hear, not what she wants to be told. She knows all of this, knows that the words can be applied to Gabriel as much as they can to Loki. Unlike Loki, however, Gabriel would have put everything into this family. It would have destroyed him faster than anything else to watch as the people he loves die around him while he remains helpless.

"Is there anywhere you would like me to take her?" Janus asks, taking a drink from his now ever present bottle. Hecate shrugs.

"Anywhere that isn't here, my friend, somewhere he wouldn't be able to find her if he looked." Hecate takes a moment to think before she speaks again. "Give her this to drink," the bottle that she hands him is simple clay, earthy and homey. "It'll make her forget, it's kinder that way."

Elizabeth knows that something is wrong as soon as she returns to her home. The wards that she has always been so careful to maintain are gone, not simply broken or damaged but _gone _like they have never existed. The house is cold, her belongings have vanished and there is a man sat by the fire place. He is watching the door, waiting and she hesitates when she sees him. He has that same other worldly sense to him that Loki has, but where she finds Loki's power draws her in this power repels and repulses her. This magic speaks of a danger that threatens the basic human within her.

She takes a step away from him.

"You have no need to fear me," the man says. His dark hair is matted, his brown eyes slightly unfocussed. This is a forgotten entity, a great being fallen in the eyes of man and his own kind. There is danger and blood and death in this creature's bearing and she fears him.

"Who are you?" She demands, hand reaching behind her for the pine stake that Loki always insisted that she keep in the house.

"Not important," he waves his free hand, "I was sent to take you somewhere safe."

"By Loki?" It does not seem like something that her lover would do, arouses suspicion deep within her.

"By Hecate. Your goddess doesn't trust him to do right by you and your baby," she shudders at the thought that this creature knows about her child, the tiny life that she and Loki have created.

"He wouldn't hurt us," she insists. The stake is gone, like everything else she owns. "I know him, we're his family and he wouldn't hurt us."

"Hecate knows him better and she doesn't think he can be trusted," the stranger gets to his feet and comes towards her. "This is not up for discussion and it certainly isn't a debate. You will come with me because your goddess demands it, or Loki will destroy you. He's got six children already and they are more than enough trouble for the rest of us, why would he need another?"

The words make her blood run colder than ice. She has heard the stories, of course, there is no way that she could not have. Hel, Fenrir and Jormungandr, Nari, Vali and Sleipnir. Stories of them are told in the winter when the nights are long and dark and there is little else but to gather at the inn and curl by the fire in the hopes of keeping warm. She has never been welcome in those circles, but she has been often enough all the same. Little is ever said about his relationship with them and she had allowed herself to think that it is a good one, that the time he is not with her is spent visiting them.

"He'll come for me, it doesn't matter where you take me, he'll come for me."

"That he probably will, or he'll try," the god takes another drink, comes closer to her and touches under her chin with a hand encrusted with dirt. "It's not important. One way or the other you're coming with me." She stares up at him, defiant. "It will be easier for you if you drink this," he presses a clay bottle into her hands. "Hecate doesn't want you to feel any pain."

"And if I don't?" She asks, fingers already curling more tightly about the simple container.

"Whether you feel pain or not isn't my concern," the smile he directs at her makes her shudder, "actually, pain tastes _nicer_ in the flesh of your kind. Hecate is showing you a kindness that I don't think you deserve, however, and I would suggest you take it."

At the leer in his eyes and the threat in his words she does as she is told, raising the bottle to her lips and drinking the contents in one swallow. The world swims black and she knows no more.

_Forgive me? Please?_

_Coming up: Kali gets back at Hecate, Gabriel realises what he has been spared and Hecate comes to a conclusion that might well be hard on both of them. (Yes, I have a plan for the next chapter at least, be afraid)_

_Artemis_


	16. Salem

_I'm taking liberties again, this time with the Salem Witch Trials. I've researched it, actually the reason this took so long was because I got too embroiled in my reading and researching, but I've taken my own spin on it a little too. It was also getting too long for one chapter, so I've split it. It may be about down the middle, it may need two more chapters, I don't know at the moment, but Hecate's part of this just ran away with me for a while._

Chapter Fifteen: Salem.

It is years until Gabriel stops looking for the girl, years until he gives up trying to figure out where Janus may have taken her. Hecate is no fool, she always knew that Gabriel would look and she has laid false leads for him all over the world. He could have reached the city that Janus hid Elizabeth away in and not seen her through the sheer quantity of people. She also knows that he has not stopped looking because he has given up on her. He has stopped looking because it has been forty years since he last saw the girl and it is more than likely she is already dead.

During the time that he searches for Elizabeth Hecate barely sees Gabriel. She tries not to dwell on the thought, on the part of her that wishes she could spend just a few moments with him. He is angry with her and she can understand that far better than she is sure he knows. In his place she would be angry as well and she has come closer to it than he will ever know or be told. She has other concerns, however, other needs and with Gabriel's sudden need to ignore her existence she has been able to find sacrifices enough to take her fill of human flesh.

It has been a long time since she has been able to indulge in partaking of flesh without the guilt that usually comes from seeing Gabriel not long after, and years of living off sweet treats and alcohol has dulled her taste for it somewhat. It is something necessary to her existence, however, and she cannot go without it for too long or she runs the risk of ending up like Janus and the others like him.

Madness is not something that appeals to Hecate.

For a time she wanders the world visiting hidden followers, those who have heard her name and her power through the centuries and have devoted their hearts and minds to her. She finds it calming to see these signs of worship throughout the world, to know that she is still remembered and loved by many.

It starts as little more than a thrill of panic that runs through her, the fear of discovery and death that is a little more keen than usual. It is late March, turning into April, and Hecate can feel the fear of some of her followers calling her from the place that the occupants of England have dubbed 'The New World'. She does not often visit her followers there, the old gods of that land are not overly fond of her kind and her children. Nor is it safe to go to a place where the persecution of those who follow her is followed through with such zeal as the puritans of the villages and towns there are wont to display.

It is the village of Salem that catches her attention, the fervent and whispered prayers of one of her followers there calling to her and raising her suspicions. This place has been quiet for years, this small family safe as the children are raised to revere her in silence and secrecy. Her symbols of protection are scattered through the house, little more than old carvings on the edge of an ancient table and seemingly accidental formations of stones at the hearth. The true allegiance of this family is well hidden and Hecate is at a loss to understand why they would be so fearful of discovery in this quiet place.

It is not until she arrives in the village that she notices the air of dissension, the chaos that has been brewing and burning just below the surface of everything for years and has now come to a head. There has been debate in this village for a number of years about whether or not they should allow themselves to merge with the larger Salem Town, the two richest families arguing and drawing the villagers into the debate. In Hecate's mind it is always best that the communities her people hide in merge with others, it makes it easier to conceal the true worship of those who revere her above all others. It is little surprise to her that things have now reached a boiling point, what _does_ surprise her is that accusations of _witchcraft_ are being used as the primary weapon.

She arrives in time to witness the trial and hanging of Bridget Bishop, a woman who has followed her for many years, and is disturbed by how close to home this conviction has hit. Though the death of the woman seems to dim the fervour for the discovery of witches, however, it does not bring it to an end. Each day more people are accused, sometimes falsely and sometimes with good claim. None of those accused worship Satan, however, and their only fault is in finding a comfort in the worship of other deities who appear less restrictive than the god that they were born to.

The woman who calls to her for guidance is Mary English, the daughter of another of Hecate's followers. Her husband, Philip, has no idea about where his wife's true religious heart lies and Mary is already fearful that several others she knows to follow Hecate will expose her in return for their own freedom or a stay of execution. Hecate needs to find out what is happening here, needs to know why people who should never have been aware of the size of her cult in this place are suddenly so able to point their fingers at her children.

This is not the first time that someone has been able to detect the allegiance of one of her children to her rather than the main god of the region. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that this will not be the last time either. It is, however, by far the _largest_ that she has come across and the loss of her worshippers is always something that will hit her hard.

Unlike many of her kind, who tend to kill the people who come to them and take from their flesh in sacrifice, Hecate takes the bodies of those that her followers have killed in one form or another. Many of those who come to her are looking for spells of love or wisdom or freedom. Only a few look to kill and Hecate much prefers the taste of that flesh to all others, the taste of magic in it makes it that much sweeter to her.

She quickly realises that this is not something that she can investigate on her own, too many people are wary of the influence of the Devil and are unwilling to discuss the events with a stranger. She is able to get a sense of the familiarity from some of the houses, a presence that she knows well, but it takes her a while to work out who it might be. By the time that she does, however, it is too late. Her children have been imprisoned, some have already died, and it causes her a great deal of pain to be this close each time. In the end, she calls for Gabriel, hopes that he will come to her aid.

"I didn't think I'd hear from you again," Gabriel's tone is hard, his eyes glittering with his anger and his pain after forty years of searching and turning up nothing.

"I need your help," she confesses, trying to keep the tears from her voice and failing.

"I needed your help once, too," Gabriel responds, "look at everything you've taken from me since."

"I'll give you anything you want that's within my power," she knows that she sounds desperate and he stares at her in apparent shock. "Just, please, they're killing my children and I don't know how to stop them."

"Who are?" He is suddenly interested, though she does not know whether it is because he has found a weakness or if it is because he genuinely wants to help.

"The people of the village. It's a witch hunt, Gabriel, and somehow fingers are pointing at my children with terrible accuracy. They're dying in a filthy jail and I can't help them!" She has tears in her eyes now, heavy drops that threaten to fall any moment, and she turns away from the archangel she dares to call friend, unable to stand the thought of him seeing her so vulnerable.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He asks her, there is less ire to his tone now, less anger in him now that he knows she has called him for a reason other than to gloat over the things that she has taken from him.

"I just need you to come with me. I need your help, Gabriel," she turns her head so that she can meet his eyes for a moment. There is a hardness there, one that she hates seeing, and for a moment she longs for the happy and open Gabriel that she knew before Elizabeth.

"I want something in exchange," he tells her and if Hecate is honest she has to admit that she would have expected nothing less. He has become one of them, truly one of them, and were she not in such a desperate place she would be proud.

"If it's within my power," she tells him, because she knows better than to make promises that she cannot possibly keep.

"The child," he tells her, "_my_ child. I want you to tell me where he is."

She should have considered this, she thinks, that he might demand the return of his offspring in return for helping her. Even though she should have known that he would ask this, however, it still comes as something of a surprise.

"He's hardly a child anymore," she replies, not questioning how Gabriel knew that the baby had been a boy. She knows that once he was aware of the child he would not have hesitated to find out the sex. "Keiran even has his own family, grandchildren even."

"She named him Keiran?" He asks, something in him softening. She nods. "Where is he?"

"London," she turns to place a hand on his chest, seeming to want to anchor him. A part of her, however, simply does not wish to allow him to become too embroiled with this part of his life. She knows that it is jealousy, knows that it is because she has never had this chance and there is a part of her that has come to want this with _Gabriel_. Of all the beings that she has associated with in her time, the archangel turned pagan god is not the one that she would have expected to fall for.

Now is not the time to dwell on the sudden realisation of her feelings. Now is not the time for her to conclude that she feels far more for Gabriel than she ought. Now is the time to find out what is being done to her children. Now is the time to find out who is directing the hands of the accusers.

She fears that she already knows who is responsible and she has to wonder what she did to deserve this treatment from her former friend.

oOo

London. His son is in London. Gabriel has to allow himself a moment of triumph, does not stop the grin that spreads over his features as Hecate continues to speak. His child is alive and living in London with his family and that fills him with relief. His friend does not say anything about Elizabeth, or how she lived her final years, but Gabriel knows that he never expected her to much care about the young human woman. Spending forty years wondering about the location of his child and lover has been hard and Gabriel wants to go and see his son now, spend time with him and know him even though he has missed so much.

He cannot. Hecate has given this information because she needs his help, is that desperate for his help that she did not even _try_ to deny knowing the answer that he wanted. He has waited this long to see his child, a few more weeks while he attempts to help his friend will not do much more harm.

"Clearly you're already suspicious," he says as he settles himself on the ground, sitting in the grass and staring at the town that sits only a mile down the road. He cannot see that it is anything all that special, but Hecate's people are good at being found where he would least expect them. He supposes that it was only a matter of time before the witch hysteria of the last several hundred years caught up with some of them. "Who do you think is behind it?"

"Kali," her voice is blunt, so matter of fact that for a moment Gabriel wonders if Hecate simply wants to place the blame. "I don't know why, but she's been here recently..."

"And she likes to cause trouble. I know, Hecate," he sighs. It is no secret that Kali and Hecate do not get along like they used to. It is no secret that Kali now goes out of her way to oppose Hecate in everything that she suggests and does. The only thing that Kali is playing close to her chest is the reason that she does not speak to Hecate any longer. Even the other goddess is at a loss to explain it. "We'll look into it together," he tells her after a moment of thought.

"Together?" At her startled tone he knows that she thought that by asking for his help she could walk away from this and let him deal with it. It is not the way that these things work, she should know that by now.

"Yes, technically we're both less powerful than her," and since Kali does not know that he is an archangel in hiding there is no sense in risking exposing their deceptions by Gabriel taking matters entirely into his own hands with no sign of back up from any of the others. "Besides, these are your children, I'm only in it because you asked so _very_ nicely."

She nods, her face drawn as she looks down onto the town as a crowd begins to gather in one of the fields. A hangman's gallows can clearly be seen from where they are stood and Gabriel knows that if Kali is involved in this she will not be able to resist watching her labours pay off. He takes Hecate's hand in his to lead her towards the gathered crowd. He can feel her nervousness, now, the way that her cool skin trembles under his touch. A loss of followers is never something that Hecate has taken lightly.

"Is she one of yours?" Gabriel asks as a dirty looking woman is lead to the noose. She is not going to her death quietly and even at the distance they are being careful to keep, they can hear her curses and screams.

"You are a _liar_. I am no more a witch than you are a wizard, and if you take away my life God will give you blood to drink!"

"No," Hecate confirms as this woman, Sarah Good, falls silent.

"She's got a good idea there, though," he mutters as he snaps his fingers. Within a couple of days the minister the words are directed at will be dead, will haemorrhage and drown in his own blood. The archangel finds that it is fitting to the situation, even though it will probably do little to help the people belonging to Hecate.

The sense of Kali is strong on this field though, strong in these people, and in another time and place this would have been a good way to point fingers at people Gabriel felt worthy of punishment. The greatest crime of the women hung this day, however, is disagreeing with the people in power and Gabriel has no interest in targeting them.

He has no _reason_ for it. The people here are misguided, sometimes cruel, and the preacher would definitely have come to his attention sooner rather than later, but there is not much here worthy of Gabriel's presence. He glances at Hecate, her face is twisted with worry and she is worrying at a nail with her teeth.

His son can wait a few more days, will have to wait a few more days. Kali needs to be stopped first. Very few of the pagans rely in their followers the way that Hecate does, very few of them have allowed themselves that weakness. It makes his friend an easy target in a way and Gabriel knows that if he does not do something about it he could lose an ally that he will one day need.

The apocalypse is coming one way or another, sooner or later, and Gabriel has no intention of standing alone to watch the world end.

_Artemis_


	17. Reunions

_Happy New Year everyone! Sorry this one took so long to get out, the last part was truly evil to try and write. I spent the day tweeking and am now as happy with it as I think I will ever be._

Chapter Sixteen: Reunions.

Gabriel and Hecate do not leave the town of Salem for nearly a month. For a while Kali is no where to be found and the accusations against people who follow Hecate seem to fizzle out for a time. Nothing changes for the people of the town, the accusations still come thick and fast, convictions still follow. There are as many false convictions, false accusations, now as there was in the beginning. Hecate's children are targeted by chance more than anything and eventually Gabriel has to conclude that their continued presence in Salem is causing Kali to keep her distance.

She has no real reason for concern, Gabriel knows, even though he is an archangel he cannot use his grace in any fight that they get into and focussed as Loki he is significantly less powerful than Kali. As is Hecate. Kali is a prominent figure in a practising religion. She has far greater resources to draw on than Loki and Hecate. The triple goddess is powerful, has her own prominence, but this is not her time and it is dangerous to take on one known as the 'The Destroyer' if it is not a matter of life or death.

Gabriel also knows that Hecate happens to think this is exactly what it is. She has never had an interest in insanity, though it is always simmering just below the surface in all of her kind, and he has no interest in allowing her mind to disintegrate. Right now the archangel is angry with her, she _did_ take his lover and child from him after all, but he is not willing to lose the only true friend that he has. Hecate has taken much from him, given a lot to him at the same time, he owes her much and he owes her little. Except that with this goddess he will always know where he stands, she will always give her reasons for her actions where she can. She is not Kali, who used him and left him so suddenly, and she is not Elizabeth, so very mortal and so very dangerous to him.

It takes him days to persuade Hecate that they have to leave town, days to convince her that remaining as they are will not draw Kali out any sooner. The other goddess must know that they are still in town, must be able to sense them when they have done so little to hide themselves. When Hecate eventually agrees Gabriel promises to return to the town in a week to find out if Kali has made a reappearance and to set wards so that if she comes back sooner they will know about it. In the mean time he heads to London to visit his son.

Keiran is not difficult to locate once he knows where to look, a peculiar blankness in his awareness of the humans who mill around him. It is something that he would have ignored in the past, some few of Hecate's worshippers being among those who are hidden from his senses. This time, however, he looks closely at the source of the blankness. This time he sees grey eyes and russet hair tinged with strands of white, he sees a strong man who holds the hand of a young child as they walk across a thin street and dodge the various deposits on the ground. Even in this part of London, poor and with few shops, the streets are busy and tightly packed.

Gabriel follows them, his son and the child, as they weave through the crowds and finally come to a halt at a house towards the end of the street. The white outside is completely discoloured and the windows glow with the dimmest of flames. Elizabeth, it would seem, did not die rich and did not leave her son in a position to find wealth. If he could Gabriel would snap his fingers and grant his child the opulence that he deserves, but the archangel cannot. He can see that Hecate was right, there is a glow of power about Keiran that causes most to draw away from him. A spark of fire in his grey eyes that speaks of a heritage not entirely human that seems to scare the others around him, it is obvious by the way that people draw apart and make space for him.

It saddens Gabriel, in a way, to see his son so poor and alienated from his own kind. The child that clings to his hand seems to watch him warily, though with a great deal of love. He spends hours, days, watching Keiran, seeing the way that he interacts with his daughter and grandson. There is love in this family, though it is small and badly fed, and Gabriel decides not to approach for the time being. Seeing the family that he could have had, watching his son with the grandchild that Gabriel should have known, the archangel withdraws. This is not his time, not his future. He does not know them and they do not know him. The woman that he loved is dead, likely died the day that Hecate had her moved by Janus, and this man is related to him by the simple fact that Gabriel's obsession with a single woman got her pregnant.

He has no place here.

"I'm sorry, Old Friend," Hecate says when she appears beside him, her eyes falling on the family. The young woman is pregnant, several months gone, and she holds a baby girl with brilliant blue eyes in her arms. The boy that Gabriel saw on the first day resembles his sister and mother more than he does his grandfather, messy dark hair and blue eyes giving him an air of seriousness that Gabriel suspects came from him more than Hecate realises.

"This is what you were talking about, isn't it?" He responds, thinking on her words about the pain and death that would come to him if he had remained with Elizabeth.

"Yes. They live and they wither and they pass from our existence like leaves in a breeze. They are everything to us and they can be nothing to us," there is a truth to her words that he has never bothered to acknowledge before. "We need them more than we would ever wish to admit and there is nothing we can do to halt the aging or to prevent Death's hand from touching them. We shouldn't be here, Loki." She slips her hand into his as they continue to stare through the window.

"I know," he mutters. "You knew it would be like this."

"I suspected," she admits. "I wanted to spare you this, you know." She tugs on his hand a little and he feels the wards that he set around Salem town shudder as they are touched by someone who should not be there.

"Why?" He knows that he should not poke at this, knows that he should just allow her whatever secrets and reasons that she has because she has always proved herself trustworthy. At least, as trustworthy as one of her kind can be.

"Because no one else ever tried to," she mumbles, rubbing at her cheek in embarrassment. He wraps an arm around her, hands still locked together as he embraces her. The gratitude that floods him at the thought is tempered by the anger at being treated like a child. Gabriel has been hurt before, he does not need to be protected. This is not the time to lose his temper, however, and he has more pressing concerns in Salem.

"We should go," he says instead after taking a moment to enjoy her closeness. "We need to get back to Salem before Kali leaves."

oOo

Kali looks down on the town from her place on the hill. It is not a particularly nice place, and certainly not somewhere she would ordinarily find herself. Even in the moments when she is bored and disillusioned with mankind and the world in general she does not usually venture this far from her own followers. The tear of separation is painful even to her, even to one that does not care for her followers as strongly as Hecate does. This is necessary, however, even if the triple goddess never understands _why_ it is being done. By allying herself with an archangel Hecate has betrayed them all, betrayed her friendship with Kali and others like her. She has to suffer for it.

Hecate _is_ suffering, of that Kali is certain. Suffering enough to bring Gabriel into all this and even though Kali is aware that in a fight she would not stand a chance against Gabriel, there is something of a satisfaction to knowing that Hecate is wary enough of her to avoid attacking alone.

"Hello, Kali," Gabriel's voice is rough with something that is not quite emotion. If pushed, Kali would say that he is trying very hard to sound like he is not feeling anything at all. Given the nature of the angels she finds herself surprised that he is not succeeding.

"Loki," she keeps her face straight, still not willing to betray her knowledge of what he really is. One day knowing that he is really an archangel will be of great advantage to her, but today she knows that it will only serve to get her killed and she values her existence. "I wish I could say I'm surprised that Hecate dragged you into this."

"Yes, well, I want to be surprised that it's you making this mess," he retorts. "Dare I ask exactly _why_ you've been getting her followers killed? Or shall I assume that it's _politics_ again?"

"It's always politics, Loki, there is little else." Kali points out as she turns her attention to Hecate. The other goddess looks drawn, exhausted, and she wonders if maybe she has taken this too far. She wonders if perhaps she has caused the slaughter too many of Hecate's children. It does not mean that she will stop without some incentive, the survival of a friend who has betrayed them is not the incentive that she is looking for.

"Kali," the anger in Hecate's voice is thick and she is amused to see Gabriel tug on her hand as the goddess takes a step forward. "Stop this."

"_Hecate_," Kali smirks at her former friend. "You know I can't simply _stop_. _I_ know that you're not strong enough to defeat me."

"No, but I could do nasty damage before you killed me." Hecate shrugs out of Gabriel's grip and stalks forward, raising her hand to summon her bow from wherever she stores it as Kali feels the rush of flames blaze up her arms.

"Ladies, please," Gabriel has found a tree to lean against, his arms crossed over his tan tunic as he grins at them, "hand to hand is _always_ more fun to watch."

"_Loki_," Hecate growls, "now is not the time and I am _not_ in the mood."

"More's the pity," he mutters in response, "but two against one hardly seems _fair_."

"Since when are you interest in fair?" Hecate demands and Kali watches as he rests a hand on the sword belted at his hip.

"I'm not," he replies as he draws the blade, "but there's no need for me to be unchivalrous about the whole thing."

Kali happens to know from experience that Gabriel, Loki, does not believe in chivalry either. She does not say anything, all too aware that if she does it will divert her attention. She cannot afford to be distracted when two of them are preparing to attack her. This is not the way that she thought this confrontation would go. She had expected Gabriel to be more of a mess over her reappearance, to be less likely to side with Hecate in violence and more willing to talk things out. Talk and trickery has always been more his style.

"End this, Kali," Hecate snaps. "If our friendship was ever anything more than politics _end this_." The words fail to evoke the guilt laden response in Kali that she knows Hecate was aiming for. "Between the two of us we're strong enough to kill you."

"Yes you are," she concedes, "but this has a life of it's own now, Hecate. I can no more end it than you can. I find that I have no desire to either. Put your toy bow away and allow me to leave. We don't need another situation like the one with Baldur."

Her words cause Hecate to pause, bring on a moment of hesitation that Kali takes full advantage of. She flees knowing that if this fight happens and things appear to go south for Hecate there is little chance that Gabriel will continue to maintain the facade of being nothing more than a weakened Loki. Since she has known him she has seen the way that he looks at Hecate, seen the softness in his eyes. These two are close and it is _not_ a closeness to ease political pressure. This is a pure and rare friendship between two very powerful beings.

It hurts her in a way that it should not.

Her objective, however, has been achieved. Hecate is hurting at the loss of her people, Gabriel is on edge because he has been dragged into this fight when it was none of his concern. It will certainly make things more difficult between the two of them, now, Hecate knowing that Loki will come when she calls and Gabriel knowing that he is susceptible to her requests. It may not work to her advantage, yet, but then she knows that she will eventually be able to use it. Besides, it shows that the bond between them has not been broken and at the very least that will give her something to work with in the future.


	18. Dockside

_Umm, I might have waxed lyrical a little bit with this one. It's set Regency Era, which I love, so I went a little bit Jane Austen (who's work I adore). I also set it in the place that I would most like to live in the world because Whitby is beautiful. Photo's don't quite do it justice but I suggest that you look up a couple of the Abbey at the very least because it's stunning. It's a very inspirational place for me, which might be one of the reasons that this chapter was heading for 4k before I managed to find a stopping point. This is a little bit of an interlude and a moment between the main characters. _

Chapter Seventeen: Dockside.

The chill north wind shatters through the town, carrying on it's back the bitter howl of the barren north and the agonised wails of hills already buried beneath thick blankets of white which will soon come far enough south to coat even this seaside town. Voices are carried from the drydocks below where men, heedless of the weather, are working on the large merchant ships. A deadline does not wait for the weather and precious business stands to be lost if the work is not completed on time.

Stood high at the top of the one hundred and ninety-nine steps to the ancient church of St Mary is a woman, her dove grey muslin dress billowing in the wind as she contemplates Whitby Abbey. The great stone ruin is stark against the grey sky and the dead light of the sun. Much of the stone has been robbed to rebuild Cholmley House and evidence of the collapse of the nave can still be seen in the piles of carved and shaped stone against grass that is coarse and browned with the onset of winter.

Though it is cold outside, she gives little indication of being aware of it as she gazes at what was once a thriving hive of activity and wealth. Though her dress is little more than muslin over cotton petticoats, the sole concessions she has made to the chill are a pair of black velvet gloves, a short spencer jacket in a shade of navy blue and a bonnet trimmed to match both jacket and gloves. Her right hand holds the bonnet in place against a particularly strong gust of wind even as loose, soft, curls of red black hair buffet at her cheeks. Her dark eyes are contemplative, her clear complexion carrying the slightly olive hue of one born in foreign climes. This is clearly not a woman of the area, still a rarity when it is considered that, until recently, any visitors to the town are mostly obliged to come by ship. At this time of year the moors of Yorkshire are almost impassible to all but those who know the area well.

Behind her is a woman who could be a daughter of this affluent town. Her sun yellow hair is also covered by a bonnet, the same fashionable loose curls frame her face and highlight eyes the colour of cornflowers. The dress she wears is of pale blue, her gloves and overcoat rather more sturdy than those of her companion. The harsh winds have brought a flush to her cheeks and she is shivering in the cold light.

"Hecate, shall we not return?" She calls over the howls and the crash of the sea. "The weather grows worse and I fear that if we are out much longer we shall both catch a chill."

"You need not worry about that, Jennifer," Hecate replies, barely raising her voice but heard all the same. More than once these last two years Jennifer has noted a strangeness about her friend. "All the same, perhaps you are correct, even I must confess to find this wind a little trying."

The goddess turns and slips her arm into that of her friend, the pair moving at a measured pace as they navigate stone steps made slippery by thousands of feet over hundreds of years and the rains of the night before. Though Hecate has no fear of falling or injuring herself, she knows that were Jennifer to suffer the same she might suffer more than an injury to her person or pride. To lose a follower when she is so close to true conversion would be most inconvenient at this stage.

It is as they make their way along Church Street that Hecate sees someone she would rather not encounter again. Freyja is staring at her from the doorway of a local inn and the goddess knows that she will not be able to avoid meeting with her.

"Jennifer, why do you not return home without me, I will catch you up in a moment," she says as she disengages herself from the eighteen year old. This will not be a conversation that the young blonde needs to hear.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, merely an old acquaintance I need to speak to for a moment. A matter of personal business, you understand. I shan't be but a moment." Jennifer looks dubious for a moment, distrust crossing a face that is completely unaccustomed to guile.

"Very well, but we shall still see you for dinner this afternoon, will we not?"

"Of course, dear friend," Hecate assures the girl and watches her hurry down the street before turning to Freyja. There is no dip of a curtsey, as is customary at this time if Hecate wishes to blend with the local people, nor does she greet the other goddess. "What are you doing here, Freyja?" She demands instead.

"Now, Hecate, is that _any way_ to speak to an old friend?" The goddess's voice is still like silk in comparison to the gravel of Hecate's and the flawless beauty of the Norse goddess continues to make Hecate feel a little off axis.

"After what you and Anubis did to me I should kill you where you stand, unless you can give me a _highly_ compelling reason not to."

"Ah, yes," the wind seems to affect Freyja even less than it does Hecate, her dress completely still as the dark haired woman's flaps loudly. "Your temper will be the death of you one day, Hecate."

"You are _trying_ my patience, Freyja," Hecate hisses.

"Is Loki not with you?" The other goddess seems to switch subjects in an attempt to throw Hecate off balance.

"No, why should he be?" Dread coils in her stomach as Hecate thinks of the last time she came to this place, when it was little more than mud huts around a cove and people lived in fear of raids from the men across the sea.

"You're rarely out of one another's company these days. Odd given you were one of the ones who called loudest for his execution after he tried to slaughter Baldur. But of course, he isn't aware of that, is he?"

"Baldur and I don't talk any more, and you know that it was my relationship with him that caused me to react so viciously. What purpose can you have for this visit, Freyja?"

"Where is Loki?" Freyja asks, her eyes filling with a smirk and a lust that Hecate is all too familiar with seeing in the Norse goddess.

"I'm not his keeper," she responds, "and I'm certain that wherever he might be he is causing some form of mayham that I absolutely do _not_ wish to be involved in."

"Pity. I had hoped you would put in a good word for me with him, I know you did with Kali," Freyja smiles, the expression wide and lewd.

"Absolutely not," Hecate snaps.

"I heard that he's a fantastic lover, but has he really got you so wrapped around him that you will not _share_?" Freyja's words strike an unwelcome note in Hecate, the desire to deny that any form of sexual relationship exists between her and the friend that she loves is quickly chased away by the need to seem better than the goddess before her. The rivalry between all of her kind is strong, has never truly been squashed by a need to hide from the attentions of a public less and less inclined to worship them.

"I see Anubis has lived up to all his promise then," Hecate jibes and can see from Freyja's expression that her words have hit home. "You realise that my interest in him never lay in his capability in the bedchambers. Either way, I made the mistake _once_ of interfering in Loki's liaisons. It is not something that I intend to repeat. If you want him for yourself then you can do all the work yourself."

"You are making a mistake, Hecate," Freyja snaps. "He'll drag you into the dirt with him and I will enjoy watching _every_ moment of it."

The Norse goddess spares Hecate a last dark look before she simply vanishes from the street leaving the goddess with a deep sense of foreboding. She knows that this will not end well for her, will not end well for Gabriel either. She also has to allow herself to wonder what it is about the archangel turned god that seems to attract people to him.

She takes a moment to compose herself, now noticing the rain that had begun to fall during her conversation with Freyja. Since she has not been focussed on her surroundings, Hecate has failed to ensure that she remains marginally dry and as a result she is now wet to the skin.

She sighs, making her way further down the street until she reaches the modest home of Richard Turner. He owns one of the small shipping companies; a tradesman to sure but with enough income to make his life, and that of his daughter, incredibly comfortable. Jennifer has good prospects for marriage and Hecate knows that she has to lay complete claim to her soul before she becomes engaged.

"Oh, Hecate!" Jennifer exclaims as the goddess enters the house. In her current form of maiden the goddess appears to be no more than a year older than her friend. "Come upstairs before you catch your death!"

Hecate follows Jennifer quietly, absently thinking that she should have taken a moment to dry her clothing a little before arriving at the house. The encounter with Freyja has left her nervous, however, and off kilter and she is more worried that use of her magic will get her caught and harmed than that her friend will treat her as simply another human. It is almost refreshing to behave in such a manner when she has always held herself aloof from all of mankind.

Perhaps at the ball on Saturday night Hecate will be able to finally claim Jennifer as one of her own. Perhaps then she will be able to move from this town to another place, a place a little less isolated.

SPN

Gabriel has come to the conclusion that he dislikes this particular time. Though he will never again have to live through it, part of the archangel wishes that he could simply go to sleep one night and wake up in a time more interesting. He dislikes the clothing, he dislikes the hairstyles. He hates the way that he can no longer walk the roads as a nameless and unnoticed vagabond. Dislikes the way that the only method of getting into many places is to have money and land.

There is effort involved in convincing people that he has money, effort involved in glamouring them to believe that he is not a sudden edition into someone's life. To do so too often would be to draw attention to himself in a way that would be most difficult. Society these days is plastered beneath a thin veneer of civility, scandals that are at once delighted in and hushed as soon as people are made aware of them. It is dull, that his pranks and tricks get no wide notice and acclaim. It is dull that so few people whisper behind their hands at the fate that befell a man for his sins. He feels like he has no place in this age.

_Hecate_ is another matter entirely. She has managed to gather to herself a greater number of followers in the last hundred years than she has since her cult originally collapsed. She makes her way to a town, finds a house that has been empty for a while and weaves herself into the neighbourhood as the Greek ward of a naval captain. Her stories of the ancient histories of her homeland captivate the bored young women of greater consequence and little sense, entices them into trying the rites that have so long been forgotten. It can take her years to do so, but the girls are soon so deeply devoted to her that she can move on to the next town and the next target. It is something to be congratulated, but for one thing; Hecate has requested that Gabriel stay away from her as much as possible.

The archangel understands her reasoning, knows that she does not wish his presence to cause her young 'friends' to begin thinking more of matchmaking than of witchcraft. He _understands_ her reasoning, but does not have to _like_ it. He misses Hecate, the way that she could turn the boredom into something more fun just by being next to him, the way that her sometimes over sharp words cut and bite in just the right way. He likes the way that with her by his side he is even less to be noticed by the people he is targeting because they are seen as married and childless and such a state holds no interest to anyone these days.

When he considers it fully, he concludes that every moment of melancholy that he has felt the last thirty years has existed because he is lonely. There is no family, he has no friends that he can lay any true trust in besides Hecate. His illusions are all well and good, but they are created for his enjoyment, they have no spark, no fight when he needs that moment of fiery anger to help him focus his mind.

Instead he simply passes his days with jokes and the rare more deadly prank. He takes time to examine the books of the shipping company he purchased so that he could use the position it affords him to more easily infiltrate the places that he needs to. It is lazy, to be sure, to use a legitimate position to get into the larger houses where most of the people he would enjoy taking down a peg seem to reside. The balls are fun, if occasionally repetitive, and are good venues for public humiliation. The girls are pretty, if shy and far more coy than in past years.

"So this is where you have been hiding."

The voice is not one that he wishes to hear, still all to familiar with the mocking notes that seem to fill Freyja's voice when she speaks. Even all these centuries after his first encounter with her they have no affection for one another.

"I am not hiding, Freyja, I just have more refined taste in companions than you do," he responds, turning to the window so that he can stare out at the rolling sea.

"It seems that the same can be said for Hecate," Freyja snaps. "Not her shadow anymore, are you? It appears that she has lost interest in you." Her tone is more malicious than mocking, now, a horrible sound in a voice that should be so beautiful.

"We don't always have to be in one another's presence, the world will not end if we spend a couple of centuries apart. You know that as well as I." He arches a brow at the blonde and she pulls a face at him.

"Kali wants her dead," Freyja comments. "She will not give us a reason but she is looking for blood. I would keep a closer eye on Hecate if I were you."

"She can take care of herself," Gabriel insists even though something in him goes still and desperate at the thought of Kali killing his friend. "Why warn me?"

"Hecate is strong, she is becoming more powerful by the year. If she dies Kali will only get stronger and that will shift the balance of power more in her favour. Everything is as it should be, Loki, the balance is right and we are comfortable."

"We are not _powerful_ as we once were, Freyja," he reminds her to hide the growing suspicion that while Freyja may not be entirely magnanimous in her intentions, Kali is certainly interested in hurting Hecate.

"No, but we are in a position of comfort and if Kali succeeds it will mean war between her kind and Hecate's. That will draw us in and it would prove a disaster."

"You want me to protect her?" He asks, confused.

"No, Loki, I actually hope that the stake goes through _you_. But if that fails, yes, keep Hecate alive."

She is gone as soon as she has finished her words, leaving Gabriel with the feeling that nothing here is as it seems. One thing that he is certain of is that he has to see Hecate, has to know that she is at least safe and tell her what Freyja has said so that they can work out what the goddess is really after.

He touches on that part of him that always knows where Hecate is, finds her in the small town of Whitby. Around her floats the sense of music and excitement. She is at a dance, then, and he will have to dress the part. A snap of his fingers ties the mess of hair that reaches his shoulders back in a black ribbon, cream trousers are exchanged for black and a deep green coat with matching waistcoat covers white shirt and cravat. Black leather gloves and boots complete the look and he takes a glance in the mirror before snapping his fingers.

He may not like the clothes, but he knows how to look good in them.

When he arrives it emerges that the ball is simply a monthly meeting in the local assembly hall, a time for the young women to meet and dance with the young men. It takes the simplest touch on the mind of the door man to get himself admitted and announced and he feels the ripple of Hecate reigning in her temper before he sees her.

What he does see stops the breath that he does not need. She is wearing a white dress, trimmed with only the smallest amount of red lace and ribbon. It is not fashionable, to be sure, but with the red in her hair when it catches on the light it fits. Her hair has been styled in a way reminiscent of ancient Greece and is littered with white flowers, though he cannot be certain where she got them from. Her dark eyes fall on him and for a moment the music dims and all he can see is the momentary softening of her expression before she becomes stoney again.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Loki?" She demands, dropping into the customary curtsey as her companion glances between them.

"A mutual acquaintance believes you are in danger. I came to reassure myself of your well being, Miss Selēnion." He returns the curtsey with a bow and offers a hand to her. "Would you honour me with this dance?"

At her side the girl that Hecate is with beams at him, and it is the kind of smile that fills him with warmth as he leads the goddess to the set for the next dance. In reality he has no interest in the dancing at all and as they move with the music it is a simple matter to use the crowd to lose themselves in a corner without being noticed. It is here that he tells her everything that Freyja related to him that day.

His words are greeted with a vicious curse and a flash of anger than sends tendrils of magic swirling around Hecate for the first time in decades.

"Kali wouldn't_ dare_," she hisses, twisting away from Gabriel to pace. "She couldn't possibly! What would she gain by a war?"

"Less competition?" He suggests. "An end to your rise in power. Remember what they did to Loki after he tried to kill Baldur."

"What he did was unthinkable."

"He made it something that you could consider again. Hecate," he takes her hand in his, "I don't want you to be alone, I don't want you to risk your life."

"Why?"

"It's not important why, Hecate, I just... I can't lose you as well. Please," he uses his grip on her to pull her close, amazed when she comes to him without a fight, "abandon your project here and come somewhere safe."

She meets his eyes, staring at him for a long moment.

"Why do you care?" She demands. "I have never given you reason to, so why do you care?"

"You are all I have, Hecate, and I do not imagine that I could continue to exist without you. Please." He brings his free hand up to touch her cheek, forgetting for a moment that they are not alone.

"So this is where you have been..." The voice of Richard Turner cuts through the silence. "Why, Miss Selēnion, what _do_ you think you are doing?" He demands, reaching for her and beginning to denounce her lack of good sense and propriety. Gabriel regards him with scorn for a moment then snaps his fingers. In the place of the man there sits a toad.

"My, what an improvement," Hecate whispers, then crouches next to him. "Find a girl to kiss you and maybe my friend will turn you back."

"I would not place any bets on it," Gabriel mutters. "Come away with me?" He asks, offering a hand once more. This time it is Hecate's face that lights up, Hecate who pulls him close. She nods and they vanish together.

_Artemis_


	19. Speakeasy

_Next chapter. This is one of those ones that I've had planned for quite a while. Actually at least the central banter was written in the summer near the start of this particular tale. It's something that I had fun with. _

_I'm also thinking about doing a deleted scene that's higher in rating. Once you've read the chapter let me know if you want to see the part that I took out._

Chapter Eighteen: Speakeasy.

Gabriel spends a great deal of the decades following Whitby in a state of prolonged ennui. After spending nearly twenty years practically attached at the hip with Hecate the two of them concluded that such proximity was not doing her any favours when it came to gaining followers. Aside from checking in with one another once a week he barely sees her.

It comes as a surprise to realise just _how much _he misses her. Over the centuries he has spent a great deal of his time with the goddess, has come to value her as one of his greatest friends. He likes to think that they are almost as close to one another as he was, is, to his brothers. He still misses Michael, Lucifer and Raphael more that he has ever been able to describe. However, Hecate, like many of the others, has the focus of followers to draw her attention. They are essential to her existence, she needs them like humans need air and water, it takes a great deal of work to turn people to her and keep them. With no such draw, and little interaction with those he is to consider his surrogate people, Gabriel finds his days beginning to descend once more into tedium and boredom.

This is nothing unusual. Though over great periods of time human society can be seen to change and evolve, and even though Gabriel takes great pleasure in tormenting those who deserve to be tormented, the passage of months and years can make them seem to stagnate. The bouts of boredom pass, sometimes quickly and other times more slowly, Gabriel makes up for them in spectacular fashion.

Gabriel hears rumours about the things Hecate is doing, Raven takes great pleasure in telling him about the moon goddess's dalliance with Thor. It makes something in him go tight and cold, a part of him that is still Loki even with the connection to grace and light that has existed for thousands of years. The ancient mistrust between the creature that he has become and the being who was once almost a brother affects even the archangel. He knows that kind of betrayal all too well. The jealousy that he feels at knowing that Hecate has willingly become associated with Thor in that way is unexpected.

He dismisses it with as much indifference as he can manage. Such emotion is always there, however, in the back of his mind and his heart soars when he hears the rumour that the relationship has ended as secretively and rapidly as it was begun. Hecate never mentions it and Gabriel never asks. When he examines the reason behind his not asking her, Gabriel finds that he would really rather not know it is enough that he has heard the rumour and enough that it is over.

The true revelation behind his distaste for Hecate's liaisons comes after the so called Great War. This is a time of light and suspicion, a time of dark corners and basement bars. This is a time of music and song, a celebration of life after a dark time where the world seemed to be ending. Gabriel knows better, of course, the apocalypse is not due for a long time.

It is the height of the years of prohibition and Gabriel is having a great deal of fun. Before he ran from heaven the archangel turned trickster would have abhorred the chaos brought about by both the consumption of alcohol and the illegal procurement of it. Now he simply likes to sit back and watch as the ban on alcohol does much of his work for him.

Speakeasies are high on his list of places to visit and higher still on the list of places to cause havoc. Mayhem is easy to produce in a place where people are trying to enjoy themselves but wound tight as springs with worry that this night will be the one that the police will break down the doors. Tonight a place in New York has been his choice, partly because the man who owns it needs to be taken down a peg or two but mostly because Hecate is in town.

He has not seen the goddess in nearly fifty years, each of them staying on their own side of the Atlantic in an effort to create some distance between them. It had been his idea after the rumours of Thor had come to the surface and it is one that he has regretted more than once because the triple goddess at least knows how to have fun.

The bar he has chosen is not some seedy underground dive, which he does not think would be suitable for his friend, but rather a place of muted lights, glamour and music. This is the sort of place where, along with cocktails sticky and sweet to hide the flavour of the moon shine, the trickster and moon goddess can dance and enjoy themselves.

He meets her on a corner not far away. She is wearing a long coat of black fur, he has a trench coat over his suit, and he greets her with a peck on the cheek. Far from reprimanding him, as he would have expected, she smiles at him. It is that soft smile he used to see in the early days and something in him lurches. This is why they agreed to put some distance between them, that smile and the feelings that it brings with it, because he cannot afford to fall in love again, he cannot face another betrayal.

It is when he takes her coat once they are inside that he realises he might already be lost. Her black dress hangs just right, her diamonds are of the tastefully understated variety and the heels on her delicate shoes accentuate her legs in a way that really draws the eye. It is her eyes, however, that make him really understand how foolish this has been. Those dark orbs that light up and turn on him in delight and the hand that touches his cheek fondly.

"Good surprise?" He asks and she grins.

"The best," the archangel offers his arm to her as they make their way to the bar, "but I think you have something more planned for this place than simply drinking with me."

"You'll have to wait and see," he signals for two drinks and has turned them into something more palatable before they have even been placed before them. The atmosphere here is enough, they do not need the strange tasting drinks to enjoy themselves.

Bringing Hecate to this place has been the right decision, he realises, she is thoroughly delighted with the examples of humanity that he has brought her to see and her smile and laughter lights up her face in a way that he finds completely charming. All thoughts of being careful in her presence are quickly expelled from his mind. As long as she does not gain any indication from him of the true nature of his admiration, Gabriel thinks that he can feel free to continue as he is. Instead he focuses on watching the owner as he comes into the bar to take a look at the gathered crowds.

"You've got that look," Hecate informs him as she takes another sip of her drink.

"I have a look, now?" He quirks his eyebrows at her but he does not stop watching the owner as he makes a pass at a young woman.

"You always have a look, but this one is trouble," her tone is a little tart and he glances at her for long enough to see the sparkle in her eyes. She is not truly angry with him, simply curious, and it eases a knot of tension even as he feels himself laugh. He has not felt this free with another being for millennia, not even Kali allowed him this sense of relaxation and joy, and he knows that this is because Hecate already knows all his secrets.

"The owner of this fine establishment has caught my attention," Gabriel admits softly after a moment to allow another couple to pass, "he's forcing young women who visit this place into his bed whether they want to go or not."

"Rapists seem to hold a special significance for you," Hecate comments and he knows that they are both thinking of the first sacrifice.

"His wife suffers for it just as much," the trickster replies after a moment, "and it gives me something to do."

"Gets you into more trouble, you mean," she takes another sip of her drink as she fixes her gaze on the adulterer in the corner. The girl he has targeted now is familiar, earily so, and she realises rather quickly that this is one of Gabriel's illusionary women.

"What better way to spend the time?" He responds, turning his attention back to her.

"When did you stop going after them yourself?" She queries, knowing that this cannot be the first time that he has used one of the girls. Her hair is blonde, her eyes vapid blue and she looks like there is nothing more than air between her ears. Hecate knows differently, however, when threatened these illusions can be just as dangerous and just as deadly as the real thing.

"It gets boring, after a while, pulling the same tricks to target them. Besides, watching is more fun," he waggles his eyebrows at her and she giggles

"Pervert," she mutters good naturedly. "You haven't brought me to watch, have you?"

"No, we _are_ actually going to have fun tonight. I just wanted to make sure that no more innocents are harmed by him while we enjoy ourselves."

"A martyr to the end, huh, Loki," she mutters, this time disapproving.

"Not at all. I just don't like leaving anything unfinished." Even to his ears the response sounds a little trite. On more than one occasion Gabriel has abandoned a joke or a trick because the situation has become too dangerous. There is something else here, though, something else that strikes him as wrong and he needs to know what it is.

They are dancing when he feels it, the alarm of his illusion as the woman it resembles is taken from the club by force. It is accompanied by something else, a feeling of blood and intoxication and from Hecate's expression he is not the only one who feels it. They both pause, ignoring the annoyed mutterings of the people who bump into them, and glance at each other.

"Oh no," Hecate mumbles. "Not here, not now."

"Who?" Gabriel asks, touching his fingers to her cheek so that he draws her attention back to him. "What is it, Hecate?"

"Dionysus," she hisses. "I should have known that he would be here." He can hear the berating note in her voice and he knows that she has possibly reached the same conclusion that her words have caused him to draw. Dionysus is using the speakeasies to gather followers to him and the owner of this establishment is using the girls that he takes as offerings. "I'll deal with this," she tells him, "we can't let him know you're here. Dionysus is powerful and I can't let him find out who you really are."

"Hecate..." She is gone before he can object, simply vanishing from his grasp and he mutters a curse as he reaches for her. The connection between them seems to waver, flickering and bursting in a way that worries the archangel and he takes hold of it so that he can follow the goddess he calls friend.

What he finds makes something red and ugly descend over his vision, makes the primal part of the body that is Loki seem to take over.

Dionysus is there, his body leaner now than the ancient depictions of him often portray him as. The god's followers are there, including the owner of the bar, on their knees as Gabriel's illusionary woman lies still in the dirt with her eyes wide and unseeing. Hecate is pressed against the wall, blood trickling from her mouth and nose where Dionysus has obviously struck her. Ordinarily Gabriel knows that this god would not be a match for Hecate, let alone an archangel posing as a pagan, but this is _his_ place. In a time such as this, a place such as a speakeasy, Dionysus is the powerful one, he is the one with the followers to aid him.

The so called god has not noticed him, is taunting Hecate with her powerlessness and lashing out at her as he speaks. His friend is struggling but it is clear that she is unable to fight off a god currently so much stronger than herself. Gabriel is well aware that in this place Dionysus is the one with all the power, Dionysus is the one with the followers that he can draw upon so that Hecate is rendered weak and all but powerless in the face of his will.

The archangel snaps his fingers, causing his now obsolete illusion to vanish and drawing the attention of the one who would call himself a god away from the creature that Gabriel calls friend. Behind Dionysus he sees Hecate slump a little as the attention is turned from her and onto the archangel who has come to her rescue.

"Well, if it isn't Loki," Dionysus comments. "You are outmatched here, do you think to save her? Hecate's time has passed, little trickster, she is worthless and unnecessary in this time. Leave while you are not worth the effort of killing."

Gabriel does not respond in words, does not need to. There is something about the prospect of losing his friend that triggers an instinctive response, something about the idea of being left truly alone that causes the barrier he has always maintained between grace and blood magic to seep away. He will not allow Hecate to die so that his secret can be kept, he cannot cope without the goddess in his life and he cannot fathom a world without her. His secret, he realises, is utterly meaningless if she is not there for him to share it with.

The acceptance of his need for her causes a glow to come to his amber eyes, causes golden brown magic to swirl about him even as he sees Dionysus's own followers inch away from the gathered gods. Humans are ever resourceful and ever observant when they wish to be, he muses. It is a simple thing to convince Dionysus that he has no power, a simple thing to convince the god that he could lose.

It is satisfying to see the look of utter shock on the face of both friend and enemy when Gabriel's hand emerges from Dionysus's back. It is thrilling to know that there is, in fact, more than one way to kill a pagan god.

The best part of the whole thing, however, is when he takes Hecate into his arms, when he holds her close and asks her if she is alright. The best part is when she kisses him.

_Yes. So. Anyone up for an M rated follow up between Gabriel and Hecate before I post the next chapter of this? Let me know._

_Artemis_


	20. Casino

_Wow, I appear to have written a chapter in between unpacking boxes and moving house. Go me! Of course this would also be down to the time that I _didn't_ spend watching the new episode because _someone_ pulled a fast one on us. My family have concluded that I love this show too much and should not be allowed near it. I think they're wrong. Anyway, I'm playing with facts again, and characters, to make them fit what _I _want. Because I can._

_Also, the deleted scene went up, though I didn't want to increase the rating of this fic so it's under A Path To Explode In Flames: Deleted Scene (oddly enough)._

Chapter Nineteen: Casino.

Hecate is playing Blackjack in an upmarket casino in Las Vegas. She _likes_ Vegas, she likes this casino and she likes this game. It is not like she needs the money, nearly everything that she wants she can create, nor does she need to interact with humanity on a greater scale than she already is. It is simply entertaining to play, an easy game for a goddess of her calibre to cheat at and she always likes to see how long it will take the humans around her to cotton onto that fact.

She feels Gabriel's arrival before he announces himself, feels the way that the air shifts and curves and the bond between them sings at his presence. She is the only one who has noticed it, she thinks, that the bond she had once sought to break is now stronger than it ever had a right to become. Her power has been increased by it as well, tapping straight into the grace of an archangel and this is the longest time that she has gone without having to feed on humans. The longest time since she has even felt a craving for it.

"That's called cheating you know," Gabriel murmurs as he brushes his lips lightly against her exposed neck and his warm fingers dance over her shoulders.

"Only if you get caught," she responds, tilting her head a little to give him better access and he nips lightly at her pulse point.

"_I _caught you," the archangel points out a little gleefully and she signals for another card all the while trying to ignore the temptation to simply vanish and drag him with her. They cannot spend all of the rest of time in bed after all.

"You're a _god_, Loki, of _course_ you did," addressing him by that name and that persona in public is now second nature to her, an action that she does not have to even think about, particularly not if she wants to keep him as safe as he wants to keep her. "Now shut up, I'm winning."

"I never would have guessed," he laughs, a sound that she has heard far more frequently over the last few years. This time, however, there is something tight to it, something that does not make any sense given the light mood that he appears to be in. "Mind if I join you?"

Gabriel has scammed a number of casinos in his time, focussing mainly on the ones that cheat their patrons of their money through shadier means than just chance. After all, people cannot possibly be _that_ unlucky all the time. This place, on the other hand, is not the sort of place to have gained his attention. Certainly they have methods of ensuring that people do not win too much too often, but nothing out of the ordinary. It is only natural that, as much as she cares about him, she be suspicious of Gabriel's motives.

"What are you up to?" She asks even as she indicates that he sit in the empty seat next to her.

"Making sure you don't get caught," he replies, voice serious and eyes sharper than she has seen them in a long time.

"I can handle casino security," Hecate responds, glancing once more at her cards and shaking her head at the dealer. It does not do to win _every_ round after all.

"I know, I'm not talking about them," her attention flicks back to him for a moment, back to the way that he has tensed and his hand has shifted to his side like he is reaching for the sword that he wore there for nearly eight hundred years. "Two tables over, blue eyes and no hair." Hecate follows his gaze and understanding dawns. "Hunter"

"I know," the human does not hold her attention for long and she can see little overly special about him. "I can handle him too."

"Confident today?" He raises his eyebrows at her and she laughs.

"I'm a goddess, it comes with the territory, you should know that."

"All the same," he turns her face so that she is looking at him when he next speaks. "I'd rather you didn't get staked."

The amount of emotion in his eyes gives her pause, makes her re-evaluate everything about this bond that they have. It makes her question whether he really does feel for her as she does for him and she just as quickly dismisses it as unimportant right now. Besides, this is hardly the place for dramatic declarations of love.

"Getting sentimental in your old age?" The goddess asks softly instead and is relieved to see him laugh softly, a genuine moment of amusement even though her eyes are sending out the same message as his were only a moment before.

"No," his hand covers hers, all pretense at playing the game forgotten for the moment. "Just used to you. I don't want to train up another sidekick."

"I think you'll find that I'm the seductive villainess actually," Hecate points out archly, "and you can't resist me."

"What gave you _that_ impression?" Even as he asks his eyes are roaming up and down her body, taking in the way that the red silk of her dress clings to her curves and leaves her shoulders bare for his fingers to explore. They have been involved with one another for decades and there is no sign, yet, of either of them tiring of the relationship.

"You keep on coming right back to me," she smirks at him.

"The villainess eventually gets locked away, though, punished for her crimes," his answering grin is wicked and a little lewd. It only serves to make Hecate's grin wider.

"Yes, well the sidekick never gets any."

"Tough call," Gabriel huffs and she shakes her head.

"Not really," is the reply. "Now why are you really here?" Not that it is not good to see him because it has been a couple of days and while they are not permanently joined at the hip she enjoys his company as much now as ever.

"I'm hurt," he puts a hand over his heart. "I could just want to see you." Hecate pulls a face at him and he grimaces in return. "Fine. The hunter."

"What about him?"

"He comes from a very select line..." Gabriel trails off for a moment.

"Yours?" She asks softly, because being forced to kill Gabriel's descendant would be awkward.

"No, fortunately, but certain members of my family are relying on him to father a child. They'd be most put out if you happened to kill him before the grand event can occur."

"I could care less about what your family does or does not want," she informs him blithely. This would not be the first time that she has gone against the will of Gabriel's family, just her _existence_ goes against _that_, and it will not be the last either.

"Normally, neither could I," Gabriel snaps up a glass of something alcoholic for both of them, "but there's the whole you being dead thing that crops up again."

"So you _do_ care," she snarks and the glare he throws at her tells her to be serious. Of course he cares about her, but this is not the time for levity it would seem.

"Not at all," his answer is just this side of sarcastic, "but if any member of my family is going to kill you, Hecate, _I_ will be the one to do it."

"Threats, Loki? That's not like you."

In truth his words have sent a chill through her. A moment of terror that she does not want to think about. If things between them ever reach the point where Gabriel has to kill her she will know that something has gone seriously wrong somewhere along the line. It is not a thought that she likes having.

"This is too important, Hecate," he reaches for her hand and does not seem surprised when she pulls away from him. "The things they'd do to you if we screwed this up for them... I couldn't let it happen to you. I can't lose you and I'd sooner kill you than let them get hurt you if I couldn't save you."

It is a sentiment that he has given voice to only a few times over the years, one that they generally keep a lid on. This makes them vulnerable; in this time where hunters are getting more and more common, better and better armed, greater information available and more contact with one another than ever before. Just being so closely connected with one another is a risk, a danger that they should not be allowing themselves to fall into. It is a sentiment that reassures her, a little, just enough to know that he cares.

"What's his name?" She asks instead as they begin to play again, watching the hunter as he starts to talk to a young woman with long blonde hair and a smile that does not reach her eyes.

"Samuel Campbell," Gabriel replies, also looking at the woman. "And it looks like he just met his future wife."

"Lucky him," Hecate grouses. "I'm bored of this, Loki, lets go back to the safe house."

His answering smile is all that she needs to see. The end of the world is one step closer and in the morning she will have to let the others know, will have to report her suspicions to Baal, Zeus and Odin to do with what they will. She will need to be in place when the end comes, she will need to be in favour with the ruling council if her plan is going to work.

After all, if Lucifer gets free Gabriel will die and _that_ is completely unacceptable.

_I did tell you that Hecate has her own agenda here, didn't I?_

_Artemis_


	21. Council of Gods

_This update was hard, and at the same time it just would not stop. I'm quickly coming to the point where I have to start reconciling everything that I've built up with canon and I really don't want to follow canon in some places. I foresee a great deal of angst in the next couple of chapters and at the moment I'm undecided about whether I kill Gabriel entirely go with the original thought and save Gabriel. I adore the little guy, seriously, but I can't decide if it serves the story better for his fate to be exactly that or if he should be given a second chance._

_Also, there may be a tiny weeny hint at a season 6 spoiler in here, possible tiny hint. If you've been paying attention or doing research, which I have. Also, reference is made in here to Ladon, he was the first dragon who guarded the tree of golden apples in the Garden of the Hesperides._

Chapter Twenty: Council of Gods.

The council is a small gathering of three who speak for thousands. While they are not the oldest of the gods, they are the three selected once every hundred years to make the important decisions that would affect all. The decisions are mostly ignored and often they do little more than meet every twelve months to argue about the decline of their kind and which apocalyptic myth will be the one to bring the end to them all.

It is a position that Hecate has never held and has never been interested in holding, in spite of numerous nominations over her years, she has long suspected that this is simply a way of giving more troublesome of her kind something to do. After all, they are also the guardians of all the knowledge of the gods and if they were to fall all of that information would be open to the wrong hands.

At the moment the seats are held by Zeus, Odin and Baal and their replacements will take their positions in only a few years. There is little chance that the three will care and an even slimmer chance that they will be willing to listen to what she has to tell them. She has a duty to report this, however, the Judeo-Christian Apocalypse spells the end for all of them and they need to start planning. Hopefully the information will be enough to get her into the Library.

The Library is the sum collection of all of their knowledge. It is probably dangerous to have stored everything that they know about all things in the world in one place, but too many of them have been killed over the years for them to run the risk of losing any more. Many of the spells in that library have been contributed by Hecate herself, but there have been many others to have offered them over the years. She is hoping that the answers she will need will be among those offerings that she has never had a cause to look at before.

"You're over reacting," Zeus tells her when she finishes telling him that the vessels of Michael and Lucifer are that one step closer to being born. "The likelihood of the Judeo/Christian Apocalypse being the one to wipe us all from existence is slim."

"Just like the likelihood of Ragnorak? Or any of the dozens of other apocalyptic prophecies that we are all aware of?" She demands. "We need to be prepared for this! We can't sit back and hope that the apocalypse that comes to pass is the one of our own choice. If the Judeo/Christian apocalypse is the one that happens it will truly be a disaster for all of us."

"You're certainty is even more baffling, Hecate, as is the source of your information," Odin replies, settling back in his seat to watch her.

"My source isn't important."

"And yet you wear a vial of angel's grace about your neck. We have often wondered how you managed to bind one to you." Unlike Odin and Zeus, Baal is younger in appearance, his dark hair short and neatly trimmed and his angular face lightly dusted with stubble. At one time Hecate had considered entering into brief liaison with him, before she entered into her relationship with Gabriel, now she cannot help but see the cruelty that he is known for.

"A woman is entitled to her secrets, Baal," Hecate smirks. "Am I to assume that this council is to do _nothing_ about this?"

"There is nothing to be done," Baal tells her. "Our time as council is nearly over, in three more years this will be the problem of the next chair and I welcome the freedom. Kali, Baldur and Mercury will all be thrilled to hear of this, however, I will mention it."

Hearing that Kali and Baldur, both, will be on the council in three years causes Hecate's heart to sink. Though she has not yet reached the root cause of Kali's dislike for her there is no denying that this will be bad for her, both her credibility and her position among her kind. As for Baldur, the relationship that they shared did not end well, and given his past with Loki her even associating with the Trickster has drawn far more than her share of censure from the Norse god.

"At least allow me entry to The Library," she says once she has taken the opportunity to regain control of her voice. The new leadership will make things very hard for her and this may now be her last chance for a century to enter the Library.

"Your contributions mean that you are always welcome," Zeus smiles at her and Hecate inclines her head. There is little in the way of actual compliment in the thunder god's words, just as there is little actual sincerity there either. Should she ever try to enter without permission of the council Hecate knows that she would be punished severely. Permission is what she wanted, however, and even though it has been mockingly given she will take full advantage of it while she can.

The Library itself is set in caverns under Olympus and the only way to reach it is if you are one of her kind. She does not know if an angel could enter, she does not particularly want to find out one way or the other. There is information in this place that could put an end to everything they know and everything that has ever existed. Part of her suspects that there is information locked in this vault that could prove their endless argument with the angels and their Father pointless and their fear of an apocalypse unfounded. She also suspects that even _He_ has placed writings in this place that He does not want His children to know about.

Though dry, the caverns are musty from years with books and parchments as the only occupants. The wooden shelves stretch as far as the eye can see, from floor to roof and side to side. Every shelf is crammed with as much information as can be placed there in as much order as possible and it is the sections dealing with spells and the one dealing with angels that she needs to go to. This is the place where she hopes she will find her answers.

The books that contain her own contributions to the collection are quickly bypassed. Nothing that lies within her experience is going to help her with this. Nothing that she knows is going to help her save this archangel that has wormed his way under all of her defences. They have always known, she and Gabriel, that should Lucifer ever get out of the cage it would mean the end of the younger archangel's existence. In some way or another Lucifer will eventually find him, and if not Lucifer then Michael, and the price for disobedience is high. Gabriel would never join the Morning Star on his path of destruction and he will not side with Michael against the brother that taught him so much.

Whether humanity figures into his thoughts at all Hecate cannot be certain, but she does know that Gabriel wants all of this to end. The archangel wants it all to be over and his family to stop fighting and she cannot blame him for that. Nor, however, can she continue to exist without him and by denying either of his brothers he will be bringing death upon himself.

Her fingers fall upon a book bound by human flesh and written in an ink mixed with blood. Only powerful magic would hold that ink in place without it fading over the years, both human skin and blood make poor writing materials for something meant to last. There is much here, in this archaic form of Latin, and she turns the pages with increasing urgency as she searchs for her answers.

"That book was written by Ladon, Hecate, I doubt very much that you will find the solution you seek in that volume. It's presence in the world has done more than enough damage don't you think?" The voice that draws her attention from the pages is light, warm and soothing and the goddess turns with wide, dark eyes to look at the newcomer.

"Mother! You honour me!" Gaia smiles softly at her as Hecate drops into a trembling curtsey. There are few out there that _all_ gods respect but Gaia, the Earth Mother, is one of them. She is among the first of them, born of the chaos of a developing universe.

"Put the book back, child, you will not save your lover by using the tainted words of Echidna's children." It should not surprise Hecate that Gaia is somewhat aware of what she seeks, should come as no real surprise that the ancient goddess has taken an interest in the affairs of her children, nieces and nephews after so many years. Many of the great Titans and ancient gods have been imprisoned in the pits of Hades, much as Lucifer has been, Gaia is the only one who now walks free.

"You know about Loki?" The goddess asks and watches as a youthful face with chocolate eyes softens in something like sorrow.

"I know about _Gabriel_, Hecate," she responds gently. "You've done an amazing job of hiding it, but his grace infuses you with brilliance that I haven't seen since our early days. You realise, of course, that it is his _destiny_ to perish at the hands of one or other of his brothers."

"Destinies can be altered, Gaia, I just need the right spell." If there is a desperation to her tone the goddess choses to ignore it. She ignores the part of her that screams that he is as essential to her existence now as any worshippers have ever been. She ignores the part of her that believes she would gladly throw aside any number of human followers for just another century at Gabriel's side.

"Why is this one so important to you, child? You have had many lovers, seen many of them die, why is Gabriel important? Tell me why you would bond yourself to an angel so completely." The questions anger her, fill Hecate with a defiance that she has not felt the need for a in a long time. She wants to demand to know what business it is of Gaia's, wants to demand to know why the elder goddess would have an interest in her relationship when she has shown so little care about those of any of the others.

"I don't understand why you need to know the answer. Isn't it enough that I don't want to lose him?" The reply is not as diplomatic as she knows she should be in the presence of one so much older and more powerful than any of the gods that now walk the earth. Gaia has been withdrawn from them for so long, been without interest in this world for far longer than that. Her interest now is baffling.

"As long as it's for the right reasons, Hecate. If you've bound yourself to him because you think it will protect you when paradise comes you will need to reconsider that. Gabriel will no more be able to protect you than I." If she is honest, that is not something that had even occurred to her, Hecate has no more idea of Gabriel being able to protect her from the end of the world than she does of being able to save herself.

"The bond was an accident, I don't regret it and I don't expect him to protect me."

"So the rumours that you actually _love_ him are true." There is a relief in Gaia's voice as she speaks and it makes something in Hecate recoil a little. She has barely been able to acknowledge to herself how she feels about the archangel, has barely been able to sit down and give it any real thought because love is something she never thought that the universe would think her worthy of.

It is a gift that she never believed she would be able to have.

"I don't know," she whispers, placing the book back on the shelf, "he tells me he can't live without me. I don't think he's even considered the possibility that the same might be true of me."

"I will give you the answer that you need, Hecate, but you know that it may not be enough," there is a warning there and the Mother touches Hecate's cheek fondly before brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. For the first time in her existence Hecate truly feels like a helpless child.

"I know, but a month, a year longer..." she hesitates and closes her eyes against an onslaught of emotion. "I think I understand why these bonds were really forbidden." She sighs. "How do I make them listen?" She asks suddenly and sees Gaia's confusion. "The council? How do I make them see the danger?"

"You listen to me closely," Gaia hisses, pulling Hecate close as the next words come out in little more than a whisper. "Stay away from the council, their fate is not yours. The coming apocalypse will open doors that should remain closed. There are three possible winners here, Hecate. Michael is a fool if he really believes that humanity and Lucifer both will allow him to take this world with ease. The hunters are _your_ children. _Teach_ them."

"How can you know this?" Hecate demands, terror leaching through her.

"The Moirae will occasionally give up their secrets." That Gaia has seen the Fates is nothing unusual, that they would willingly give her this information shows that they are concerned. After all, whether it is Michael or Lucifer who wins this, the coming apocalypse will still result in their death and to a god existence is everything.

"And saving Gabriel? What will you demand of _me_ for this information?" There is always a cost and always a price. Hecate, of all of them, knows this the best of all. Gaia regards her sternly for a long moment.

"Peace," Gaia responds. "Secrecy. You will tell no one of this conversation. You will never call upon me. I am leaving this world, there is nothing for me here now and my children have long since outgrown the need for me. A summons back would be most inconvenient."

"I understand."

"Good. The answer is here," the book that Gaia hands her is ancient, blackened and faded with age. It is also one of Kali's. "She is not just death and destruction," Gaia seems to read Hecate's thoughts correctly. "Kali is also of rebirth. She may not help you, but this will tell you what you need to know."

"Thank you." Hecate watches the mother goddess fade into the shadows of the Library. After a long moment of thought she turns to the book that she has been given. Everything that she needs, she realises, is in easy reach and she needs only to persuade Gabriel to part with it. There is more than one option now open to them.

She simply hopes that it will be enough.

_Artemis_


	22. Winchesters

_So this chapter is mostly Gabriel's point of view on Tall Tales, Mystery Spot and Changing Channels. I had to reconcile them with this fic and it seemed the way to do it. It also made this chapter very easy to write and since I now have to watch a certain episode as a refresher. I'm going to need a huge quantity of alcohol for this, I didn't deal well with that episode at all. It says a measure of a character when a song that reminds me of him can reduce me to tears after he's been killed off. _

_I've also had a terrible couple of days, so nice words will make me feel better._

Chapter Twenty-One: Winchesters.

Gabriel notices the Winchesters as soon as they approach the building he is playing janitor at. He's been having fun, finding people who need a little lesson and teaching it. The Weekly World News is a fantastic human creation and it does half of his work for him.

The two men are clearly hunters from the way that they walk and talk. It is rare to see two working together, outside of married couples, but it is also just as clear that these two are related from the way that they interact with one another. It is not much of a stretch to go to brothers and from the _feel_ of them they are something more than hunters.

They feel like vessels. _Strong_ vessels. Michael and Lucifer strong.

Gabriel has been watching Samuel Campbell and his family for a long time, long enough to see Mary marry John and then her two sons come into the world. Keeping tabs on the boys has been hard since Mary died, and it had been _so_ tempting to stop Azazel before he could hurt her, but he has seen enough of them over the years to recognise them after a moment of thought. Sam and Dean Winchester. Both tall, both handsome. Michael and Lucifer are going to have a field day.

If he were sensible about this Gabriel would skip town straight away, except that the frat boy and the aliens is already set up and no hunter worth his salt will buy into that one. Besides, Gabriel hates to let a good joke go to waste and there's at least one more lined up after this one. Instead of leaving, he decides to see just how good the Winchesters really are.

So he messes with them a little bit, nothing serious, nothing that will hurt them or kill them. Just enough to have them bickering and at one another's throats. It is actually quite amusing to watch them go at one another, rather like an old married couple, and he figures he will give them a week to work out that it is him, or rather Loki, before he skips town. Messing with hunters is always fun and often he lets the ones who figure it out get away with it, lets them stake him even though it's uncomfortable and makes Hecate cranky. It also means that he gets great make-up sex after he's argued with her about it so he cannot bring himself to mind about the arguments overly. It is all part of the cover.

This time, however, he decides that he will save himself the debate and use a simulacra. Hecate has been getting more and more on edge recently, more and more worried. He knows why, of course, knows that it is because they both know that the apocalypse is getting closer and there is nothing that either of them can do about it. It will not necessarily happen in the Winchesters life times, but there is definitely a whiff of angelic interference about Dean and _that_ is something that Gabriel would know about.

Waiting, however, is boring and if Hecate were here he knows that he could lose himself with her until morons one and two figure it out. She is not, however, instead she is dealing with a problem in one of her Australian covens. A demon problem and he _would_ help out except that she has banned him from interfering in her affairs. The last time he tried she put an embargo on sex for a year, not even his girls would play and he still has not figured out how she managed it. He does not want to go through that again. He _likes_ sex, it is one of the major perks to his role now.

Instead he turns to his girls, a brunette modelled loosely on Hecate and a blonde who looks a little like Freyja. In the beginning he did it to annoy the both of them, aware that Hecate would be both amused and disapproving of his choice and that Freyja would be almost impotent with rage. Now he keeps them like this because the brunette is the next best thing to the goddess that he adores and the blonde is something of a nostalgic moment. Added to which, it _still_ annoys Freyja and that is always a bonus in his books.

Hecate likes the girls well enough, secure in the knowledge that they are little more than realistic illusions, and he knows that she would rather he went after them than another of her kind. Or even another human. They're good fun and instantly dismissed when Hecate drops by. The real thing is always better after all.

Tempting Dean using the girls is another matter. He knows that the man _likes_ women. Knows that he will pick up anything halfway attractive without a significant other. So the girls are a tempting little treat for Dean. Finding something for Sam is almost impossible, however. If the younger Winchester were anymore rigid Gabriel would think that the metaphorical pole really was stuck there. Fortunately Dean comes after him alone and the boy _is_ tempted, Gabriel can tell. He really does not want to go after the brothers, does not want to _have_ to hurt them. It has nothing to do with the fact that the brothers are only doing what they perceive as their job and everything to do with the fact that he has no desire to get fried by one or other of his brothers.

Michael has already done it once, after all, and he is not even going to get into the time paradox involved there.

He is almost proud of Dean's ability to resist his peace offering, delighted with the way that the three of them manage to pull the wool over his eyes. It is not that the trick was overly complex or intelligent, it is more that the sheer _simplicity_ of it worked far better than he had ever realised. Knowing that he is not going to get out of this now without a fight he waits until the three hunters are distracted with girls and chainsaw before separating the simulacra from his vessel and retreating unseen to watch.

The outcome is inevitable, he supposes, the simulacra gets staked and he is safe, if that is the right word, from the notice of the Winchesters for a while longer.

"I see you went with the illusions option this time," Hecate comments as the simulacra vanishes in blue flames.

He grins at her, holding his candy bar to one side so that he can give her a brief kiss in greeting. Her smile as they come apart is soft, her eyes sorrowful. In an attempt to wipe the sadness from them he daubs the end of her nose with chocolate from the candy bar. She frowns at him, wipes the chocolate from her nose with one hand and steals the candy bar with the other.

"Thanks," she grins as she takes a bite. He laughs and snaps them both out of the auditorium, no point staying now that his objectives have been achieved.

The next time he notices the Winchesters is almost a year later. Dean has sold his soul, the taint of a demonic claim is clear on him, and Gabriel knows what this means. He is also painfully aware of the dedication to one another that these two share. It is dangerous and for a moment he thinks about just skipping town entirely and leaving them to find nothing.

Except that he knows that even if Dean breaks in Hell, it needs to be the vessel of Lucifer who breaks the final seal. If Sam never caves, if he does not allow himself to be manipulated in his grief into seeking revenge for Dean's death, maybe he can prevent the inevitable for a while longer. He has no desire to see his brothers kill one another.

On the other hand he has no problem slaughtering Dean in a multitude of interesting and increasing ridiculous ways. Even Hecate provides a few laughs with this one, content to join in because he knows that she likes to be close to him. He still asks her to leave when he realises that Sam is going to confront him outside the diner. He does not want her any where near evergreen stakes and the hunters that wield them.

The same goes for six months later when he confronts Sam. The youngest Winchester plus sharp objects equals almost certain death or at the very least maiming. Gabriel can at least come back from anything that Sam can throw at him, Hecate cannot and he will not risk her for anything.

Nearly two years later Gabriel _feels_ Lucifer break free from his prison, hears the song of a tainted grace that was once so beautiful to him. The war has begun again, Lucifer is calling Michael out and all it will take is two brothers saying yes. He weeps for his family and Hecate holds him close and tight. She soothes him as best she can and stands by him as he sinks further and further into despair.

There is little enjoyment in his cover now, little comfort in the thought that he is bringing a deadly kind of justice to those who would never otherwise see it. Now there is only the thought that he has to maintain his disguise so that the angels that are everywhere do not notice the archangel in hiding. Something of the light in him seems to dim and half of him expects Hecate to walk away. She does not, she stays with him but he knows that he is dragging her hopes down as well.

The only solution that he can see is to help facilitate the end.

The Winchesters are both stubborn, well known for it, and he wonders if their stubbornness will extend to an eternity spent playing a role set out for them. It is a simple misfortune that he neglects to consider their tame angel. A moment of oversight that costs him in the long run.

Castiel is something else entirely, with a grace that flickers and dims. There is nothing blackened about it, nothing damaged or dark, it is simply going out as he loses his connection to the host and to family. It is something that Gabriel has never even considered happening, never considered because it has not happened to him. He would feel some sympathy for the lesser angel, but for the fact that there is a familiar feel to the vessel, empty as it is, and it takes him a moment to place it.

This body once belonged to one of his descendants and it is that more than anything that makes him harsher on Castiel than he perhaps needs to be.

In the end it all falls to pieces, just as part of him suspected that it would. The Winchester brothers may not be the brightest sparks in all of creation, but they are stubborn. So stubborn, in fact, that Gabriel wonders how he ever thought that T.V. Land would break them. This is the second time that the two of them have managed to pull the wool over his eyes and he promises himself that it will be the last.

oOo

Hecate finds him stood in a warehouse under a spray of water. If his wings were visible she has a feeling that they would be drooping in dejection. He looks so downtrodden in his soaking clothes that her heart goes out to him for a moment. It still does not mean that she can resist commenting, however.

"You're an idiot," she tells him softly, snapping her fingers to stop the downpour as she treads delicately through puddles. She happens to like these sandals and does not particularly want to ruin them. Snapping things clean never really leaves them feeling quite the same.

"How do you figure that?" Gabriel demands and she shakes her head.

"You knew they'd never give in. It doesn't matter what you try to throw at those boys they never learn the lessons that you want to teach them."

"You got a better idea? I've got to watch my brothers _kill_ each other, Hecate! Why would I want to prolong the wait?" His demands are not unreasonable, she knows. "We're kidding ourselves, as soon as one of them wins we're as good as dead. What's the point?"

"If that's the way you're going to look at it all, Gabriel, then what was the point in any of this?" Hecate snaps. "What was the point in leaving them? Or in taking Loki's place? And us? Have I just been another distraction?"

Her words have hit home, she knows they have. The defeated, devastated expression is back on his face and he reaches for her. His words have cut into her, though, have touched something deep in her that has always whispered that he could never truly be one of them. It is the part of her that has always believed that he would never be able to love her, no matter what their bond makes her think.

"Did you ever think that there's another team in all of this?" She demands. "Did it even _occur_ to you that humanity might win if you just bothered to help?"

"How? By killing them myself? I left so I'd never have to do that."

"You know more about Lucifer's cage than any of us down here," she whispers, "stop seeing the inevitable end and start looking for a way to prevent it."

"Like you are?" The question is a shrewd one, but it is not what she has been searching for.

"No," she strokes his cheek lightly with two fingers, brushes strands of wet hair from his forehead. "I'm not trying to save the world, just the only good thing in it. I love you, Gabriel, and that means that we're not a waste of time."

It is the first time that she has said the words to him, the first time that she has let the acknowledgement of the emotion pass her lips and his smile is brilliant.

"Dean was right, Gabriel, it's time you stood up to them." He opens his mouth to object and she cuts him off. "It's time we all did. Think about it. Don't decide now. Anyway, I need your with something."

"With what?" He pulls her close to him, burying his nose in her hair as his wet clothes slowly soak the burgundy dress that she chose to wear.

"Protecting my one good thing." He huffs a laugh but stops her before she can make her way to the Chicago apartment they are currently calling home.

"I'm sorry, Hecate." He does not say what he is apologising for, but the kiss that he presses to her forehead tells her that it is his earlier words. She only hopes that he will come to see things her way before it is all too late.

_Artemis_


	23. Hammer of the Gods

_Alright, just so you all know I broke my heart writing this chapter. I rewatched Hammer of the Gods, sobbed hysterically and then started writing this. It was all going swimmingly until I got some super fantastic awesome news. Jared is going to be at Asylum 6 in the UK in May. The convention that I am going to. Jensen is going to be there too. As are Richard and several others... I nearly died right there on the spot. It's hard to write angst when you've just been given some of the best news of your year._

_Then I wrote the end of this chapter and broke my heart some more. There's one more chapter after this though. Just one._

Chapter Twenty-Two: Hammer of the Gods.

Hecate screams under his hands as Gabriel pushes, feels light and love and grace slip through his fingers and into her skin. He hates this, he hates the way that she writhes against him, the way that her eyes are screwed shut and her head thrown back as the shrieks echo through their apartment. Her magic rolls over him, fighting against the grace that he is forcing within her.

Combining the two is a slow process, one that he has already experienced, and he knows that it is an agonising one. This will be harder for Hecate, however, with the tiny amount of pure and ancient grace trying to burn out the darkness that has created her. This is not the grace of an archangel long mingled with ancient magic, this is the grace that she took from him on the day that he agreed to her terms.

He does not want to do this, does not want to hurt her this way, except that Hecate insisted. Hecate _wants_ to do this because she has read Kali's book and she tells him that it is essential.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as she lies on the floor, her chest heaving and tears leaking from closed eyes. He can see his grace shifting under her skin, can see the way that it burns through her as she forces the very essence of herself to mix and bond with it. As she forces herself to accept this last part of him into herself.

This is not a bond in the way that they already share, a pagan bond where Hecate is bound to him and him alone. This is an angelic bond, a mixing of their being that is even more irreversible.

It is days until she is properly conscious, days that he has to think about the words thrown in his direction by Dean Winchester and the brothers who will kill each other for the right to the world. It is a time where he can think of alternatives, a time when he can consider a new plan. It is a time to prepare.

Gabriel is not stupid. He knows that everything Hecate is doing is her way of trying to protect him, of trying to save him. This could have been a mistake, to tie them both together in this way. If something happens to him, if he is killed and her plan does not work, it could kill her as well. _Saving_ him could kill her.

He forces himself to push it from his mind, forces himself to prepare for the eventuality that he will not be able to give the details of the plan himself. Regardless of what happens next, Hecate was right all those weeks ago. Gabriel knows more about the cage Lucifer was bound in than any other on the face of the Earth barring his Father. He has to be the one to pass on the message, he has to be the one to explain about the Horsemen's rings. Of course, the Winchesters are never going to take anything from him at face value and Castiel will likely not trust him either.

Persuading the difficult brothers that he is telling the truth will not be an easy task, but it is a problem to save for when the time actually comes.

Hecate does not wake slowly, rather she is shuddering on the floor one moment and the next she is stood in front of him. Her dark eyes seem to glow even though the brilliance of grace has left her skin and he knows that this will be difficult to hide from the others.

"Are we ready?" She asks him, lowering herself so that she is sitting on his lap. Gabriel wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer so that he can kiss her. This is something that he knows he will never tire of, the simple moments of togetherness that he experiences with her that he never had with Kali.

"As we'll ever be. We just need to wait for someone to make the first move." He traces a finger down her cheek, watches her lean into his touch. "Hecate..."

"I know," she mutters, cutting him off and preventing him from telling her exactly how he feels about her. They are bonded now, no matter what happens next, they belong to one another and nothing will change that.

It is nearly a week later when Kali approaches him, gift in hand, to ask him to come to a meeting of gods. It will be the first such meeting in nearly three centuries, not even the solstice parties have been thrown over the last five hundred years. As time has passed old grudges and the competition for followers and meals has resulted in an ever increasing desire to settle scores and eliminate rivals. Loki may have been the first to try to kill one of their own, but he has not been the last.

Hecate is not home, Gabriel suspects that Kali has waited until Hecate is away before coming to him. With the way that things are between the two goddesses at the moment Gabriel would not be surprised if Hecate attacked her former friend as soon as she entered the building.

"We need to something about the Apocalypse, Loki," Kali says as she crosses her arms over her chest and surveys the tiny apartment with something like distain. "I want you to come to the meeting."

"What about the others? You know as well as I do that they don't like me all that much." He points out, feeling Hecate's approach and knowing that even though they have planned for this his lover is likely to be upset by the presence of his former girlfriend in their home.

"I'm aware, but you have strengths of your own and I think you should be involved."

"Alright, where and when?" He asks and sees Kali smile. There is something about it that he does not like, something that sets his teeth on edge but he listens to her instructions, memorises the location of the motel and the date that the others will be meeting there. There is an ominous note to it all, and if he was not already aware that going any where near the Winchester brothers is a monumentally bad idea, he would avoid the entire thing. Lucifer is going to be involved in this somewhere, however, and no matter what she has done since Gabriel once loved Kali a great deal.

He would not be able to live with himself if he lets her take this path without trying to talk her out of it.

"If you go to that meeting for her you know we're through, don't you, Loki?" Hecate demands. Kali is still close enough to hear the words that slice through the archangel. The triple goddess seems so calm, so collected, but he can see tears in her eyes. "After everything she's done to us, if you go to her I never want to see you again."

"They're going after Lucifer, Hecate, I have no choice."

"There's always a choice," she points out, pressing her lips to his and slipping her fingers into the pocket of his jacket. "I hoped you'd make the right one. Goodbye, Loki."

She is gone in a moment and Gabriel stares at the spot that she has vacated for a long moment. It hurts to think that this situation might actually be the one thing that could destroy what he has with her, it hurts to think that Kali could still drive a wedge between them. He is only doing what he needs to, however, and part of that is ensuring that the mook brothers do not get a chance to betray him to the others.

The others who, when the time comes, are bickering and threatening to kill each other again. It comes as no great surprise to see Kali and Baldur at the centre of things, nor does it really come as a surprise to note that Kali has been taking her frustrations out on Mercury. Sam and Dean are taken care of in a heartbeat and he can see at a glance that discussions are not going to go well. Kali says that they fight, and most of the others in the room are scared enough of her at this point to listen.

His next task is to get Sam and Dean out of the building. The apocalypse is coming and nothing can prevent it from happening one day, but Gabriel knows that he is going to need the pair of them if his plan is to postpone the inevitable is going to work. Something that is made that much harder by the fact that Kali has gotten her claws into the two men. The brothers want a reason that he is trying to stop this all from happening now and the truth is going to be too hard for them to swallow. So he sticks to a half lie, one that contains just enough truth to make it awkward and believable. He gives them the smallest amount of information on his relationship with Kali, such as it was.

All hands, even Dean can appreciate that.

Unfortunately, as good as he is at playing them, these two are also very good at manipulating him. Gabriel needs his head in the game. He needs to talk Kali out of a very bad plan and bust the Winchesters out.

As it turns out, trying to seduce Kali is one of the worst ideas he has ever had.

"You must take me for a fool," she mutters as he pulls away from her with a hiss of pain. The goddess raises her hand to show him his own blood. "Gabriel. You're bound to me, now and forever."

She knows, he cannot be sure how long she has known for, but she knows and that means that he is in greater danger than he had first thought. Danger not just from Lucifer, who he does not particularly want to meet at this stage of the game, but also from the beings that he has hidden among for all these years. Kali is not just going to let this go.

Being prepared for all eventualities is something that Gabriel takes a great deal of pride in, however, and not bringing the _real_ sword into the building with him is one of them. His actual sword is hidden under Dean's car, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he has to wonder. Kali is angry with him, not that Gabriel blames her overly, but he is upset by the way that she talks to him, is upset by the way that she still thinks that they ought to fight even though his superior knowledge tells them that they are far out matched.

What upsets him the most is the way that she apologises and then slides his false sword between his ribs.

Gabriel knows how angels die, has seen it so many times during the war with Lucifer, so he knows how to make this convincing. From the expressions on Sam and Dean's face he has done a good job of it. The blood spell that Kali has placed on him may not override his bond with Hecate, but it _does_ tie his vessel to the building and that is far more inconvenient than he would like to admit. So he has to wait for an opportunity and is surprised when Dean turns out to be a natural sort of general, rallying all of the gods behind him in a plan to lure Lucifer out and kill him. It is a completely crazy plan, and it does not stand a hope in all of Hell of working. The only person in this motley bunch of idiots with half a hope of killing Lucifer is Gabriel and no matter what he has said, he is not ready for that yet.

Dean does not buy it, and after a great deal of thought Gabriel does not either. He came into this with an idea about how he could help, he came into this with a plan to buy the world a little more time. A plan is not good enough if he is not willing to put his _family_ first. His brothers are not family anymore, not really, he was created of and as them but he has been gone too long. The pagans are his family, _Hecate_ is everything to him, he has living descendants among the human race. Humanity and the pagans are his people and he has to stand up for them because if he does not then no other will.

Standing up to Lucifer _hurts_, not only because in saving Kali he feels like he is betraying Hecate, but also because he knows that he does not have a chance of winning this. Whatever truths he may throw at his brother, Gabriel still knows that almost everything he has ever been taught has been at Lucifer's hands. A simulacrum will only fool the tainted brother for so long, even with the extra steps taken, and even though it is inevitable the sword through his chest still comes as a painful surprise. A part of him never believed that Lucifer could bring himself to do it.

He reaches out for Hecate and he can _feel_ her scream as the blade is twisted for the final time.

_I just killed Gabriel... I'm going to go to that corner now and cry for a bit, then write the final chapter. Hopefully I'll have it up by Monday._

_Artemis_


	24. Endings

_This is is, the final chapter. Part of me is relieved that I've made it here, part of me is really very sad that this particular journey is all over. It hasn't been an easy one to write, this fic. What with everything that's happened over the last several months. A great deal of research went into some of these chapters, though, and a great deal of agonising went into the end of this one. For months I thought I knew where I was going and exactly how I was going to end it. I've changed my mind a number of times on the way here and I finally settled with my first thought._

_I do want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read, everyone who alerted and favourited. Everyone who rec'd this fic elsewhere and finally to my reviewers who have given me the support I needed to complete this piece. It's been a journey that I couldn't have completed without you all._

Chapter Twenty-Three: Endings.

Hecate has to beg Gabriel to help her take his grace inside of her. It is not something that she can do for herself and there is no way that she can save him. Part of Kali's reincarnation ritual involves taking the forming essence of the one that she wishes to give new life into herself. To take all of Gabriel's grace within her, Hecate knows that she must first have a small part of him bound to her. A human soul is a fluttering warmth against the blood magic of a pagan god. The grace of an angel is a volcano. Even this small amount is an agony that she has never before known.

"_I love you, Hecate, don't ask me to do this, don't ask me to hurt you."_

Gabriel's words linger with her over the days as she fights to force her magic to accept the grace. They give her something to focus on and something to make her _want_ to pull through the agony. He loves her and as his grace mixes with her magic she can feel that for herself. She can feel all his worry and concern. She can feel the distraction in him as he attempts to prepare for all eventualities and she can feel his relief when she is finally stood before him for the first time in too long.

"Are we ready?" She asks as she settles on his lap, bringing herself to him as close as she can without actually trying to climb inside of him. She does not want to be parted from him now, can feel every emotion that swirls within a grace that has learnt so much and can see every doubt that flashes through his mind. She can _feel_ the love coming from him in waves and he does not need to say it.

Besides, with the way that things are going to have to be played over the coming weeks the utterance of the words would only weaken her resolve. They cannot afford for that to happen. Both of them will have to be strong, even when Hecate would rather curl into a ball than tell Gabriel to go.

Especially when she tells him that going to Kali will mean that they will say their goodbyes.

Both know that she does not mean it. Both know that she could no more be apart from him now than he can her, but this is important. Kali must believe that Loki is still devoted to her, still in love with her, if Gabriel is to get close enough to ensure that Kali and the others do not needlessly put themselves into a position which will get them slaughtered by Lucifer.

It is the waiting that is the hardest part, the waiting and the wondering if Gabriel will be successful or killed. If he succeeds in getting the Winchesters away Hecate does not know if she will kiss him or kill him herself. She does not know if she wants to know the things that he will have to have done to break the chains that Kali will have placed on the living vessels. A small part of her is terrified that he will have bedded her in his attempt to prevent events from taking a deadly turn.

She _knows_ when Kali takes his blood, knows when she binds the body to her side. Whatever plan Gabriel had, whatever he was attempting, has failed and now all she can do is sit and wait for the outcome that is looking more and more inevitable. All she can do is wait for Lucifer to arrive. The fear of it is almost crippling and she knows that it is not just her own that she is experiencing. The sensations through the bond are more like vague ideas, notions that she can interpret the meaning of because she knows Gabriel so well. It is enough, however, to know that he loves her in the same way that she loves him. It is enough to know that even though she was never able to break the bond between them, the strengthening of it grew in a way that is natural and organic.

Their bond is the one that it meant to be, not the dark magic of Kali's tie to him.

Hecate is aware of the archangel's blade the instant that it pierces Gabriel's chest. She is aware of the grace that reaches for the tiny piece embedded within her as she races to the motel and to the side of her lover. Everything is bright agony and searing pain. Everything is the press of grace and the desperate clawing of her power as she tries to draw him into her. She knows that she is screaming and she cannot stop herself. She knows that she is racing into Lucifer's waiting arms and she will not back away.

She is aware of the tattered remains of grace that are tied to the vessel as the sword is twisted, she feels them shatter and explode as Gabriel shrieks within her. This is a pain that she should never have known. Unlike Gabriel, who is an incorporeal being of light and grace who took a vessel, Hecate is tied to her body. No matter the shifts in appearance that she can make, she is a physical being and there is no way to comfort the pain maddened creature that beats against the caged walls of her magic. If he is allowed to defeat her barriers he will destroy her, take over her body and wipe her very being from all of existence provided the destruction of part of his grace does not kill him first.

She is weakening and she does not have a lot of time.

Kali is stood over the body when Hecate finally gains enough control to approach it without losing herself to the archangel inside. The Destroyer's face is stricken, her dark eyes filled with tears. Hecate has everything that she needs to repair the vessel and transfer Gabriel back into it but if Kali continues to hold her lover's blood all of this will be for nothing.

"Give me the blood, Kali," she demands, her voice still strong though her steps falter. "Give it to me or I will tear it from you."

"Take it," the other goddess sneers, throwing the tiny bottle towards Hecate. "We both know which of us he cares for more now anyway." There is a dark insinuation in Kali's words, the implications that it was her that he came to and her that he saved from Lucifer's clutches.

Hecate does not let that moment of doubt show on her face, she simply gestures at the leg of a broken chair. Kali does not even see it coming as it implants itself deep into her rib cage, her mouth works and her eyes stare, but they are uncomprehending and Hecate's face is flat and cold.

The triple goddess kneels in the blood that pools under goddess and former angelic vessel, feels it soak through the thick fabric of her jeans as she pulls a pair of stoppered glass tubes from her shirt pocket. These are filled with the blood of the vessel and she lays them beside the body as she rips the shirt from it's chest.

Gabriel is starting to settle inside her now, the pulse of his grace a warm caress against her magic rather than a frantic tattoo of pain and fear but it is fading and he is dying. He is safe within her, for the moment, and though his presence burns and hurts, she can concentrate more on the ritual that she is about to perform and less on keeping him from destroying her. It gives her time to think about the symbols that she uses her fingers to paint onto the chest of the dead vessel, symbols in Kali's blood. This is not the way that it should be done. The blood of the mother should be from a living creature who will give birth to the reborn soul.

Hecate does not want to create a new body for Gabriel, she just wants to breathe life back into the one that he currently has and she has to work quickly. If Kali had not been present she would have used her own blood, opened one of her own veins though it would have weakened her hold on the archangel's dying grace. As it is she can use the presence of her former friend to her advantage, can use her strength to hold on to the grace that is beginning to flicker within her.

Gabriel, she knows, sacrificed himself for the Winchesters, sacrificed himself for Kali, and he will not be happy to wake and find that his former lover is dead. Hecate hopes that he will one day forgive her as she begins the chant to restore life to the vessel that has been broken and dying for far longer than any of the others has realised.

The blood of the vessel is poured into the gaping wound, her own drawn to join it as she reaches into the pool of magic that has been tied to angelic grace. This is the part of the ritual that will hurt her the most. This is the part where she takes of herself to bring him back and breathe true life into the grace that is still going dim as the archangel stops fighting against his end. It only makes Hecate cling to him tighter, only makes her fight the surge of weakness and exhaustion that floods her that much harder. She will not lose him and she refuses to lie down and die at his side.

Finally the body gasps, it's soulless eyes stare at the ceiling above them. The mind of the body is blank and uncomprehending. There are no memories here and nothing to tell it how to live, just the instinct of the brain making it breathe and the heart beat. She has to wait, now, until the magic has finished it's work and mended the damage caused by Lucifer. She has to wait until blood magic and grace has worked it's way around the vessel and she does not have long.

"You will _not_ die on me," she hisses as she wrenches Gabriel from within her and forces the weakly pulsing archangel into his vessel once more. "I'm _not_ going to let you." She opens another vein, coats her fingers in the thick blood that pours out of it and uses them to paint a series of final symbols over the now healed injury. "You are _mine,_ Gabriel, and I do not give you permission to die!"

She screams the final incantation against the feeling of death that begins to fill the room, screams the words as she wills her lover to just continue to hold on for a little longer. Light pulses around her when she utters the final word, flashes so brilliantly that she is forced to look away from it. The gentle breaths of the vessel under her hands stutter and for a long moment there is nothing. A terrible coldness settles within her, warmed only by the tiny piece of her archangel that is inextricably bound to her. Fear clings to her heart and she opens tear filled eyes to stare down at the still body.

"No," she breathes, leaning so that she can bury her face in his chest. "No." Sobs wrack through her, violent shudders making her convulse as she weeps and whispers pleas to the unfeeling universe.

She is exhausted and has nothing more that she can give. Her reserves of magic are utterly depleted and it will take years for her to feel as strong again. All of it is gone, her magic, her strength, her friends, her lover. She has nothing and she can feel despair and madness beginning to take her for the first time as she has always feared it would.

"Hecate," the voice is soft, weak and uncomprehending. In her grief it does not register that he has spoken, does not register that the body she is clinging to so tightly is warm under her hands now; far warmer than it should be. "Hecate."

Stronger now, the voice says her name again. It is a voice roughened with screams and weak with exhaustion. It is a voice that she longs to hear and that she fears the loss of. Her name is uttered again and this time a hand touches her cheek, draws her attention away from the grief and towards the golden eyes over her lover.

"Gabriel," the relief that floods through her is like nothing that Hecate has ever known, causes more tears to fall as she kisses him. It is a kiss filled with need and desperation, one of relief and reassurance.

"I love you," he whispers.

"And I you," she responds. "We did it, Gabriel, we did it."

The plan succeeded, for the most part, and the Winchesters now have a workable course of action.

"Kali?" He asks after a moment, she glances behind her at the body and Gabriel follows her line of sight. "What did you do?"

"I didn't have time to argue with her," Hecate whispers, tears coming anew and shed for the friendship that was sacrificed without her ever knowing the real reasons. "I couldn't risk her interrupting, I couldn't let her interfere. It was always going to come to this one day and I'm sorry, Gabriel, I'm so sorry."

oOo

The slow death of Gabriel's grace has left him exhausted, the wounds made by Lucifer's sword and the explosive death of a part of him has left him so weak that he knows he may never regain his full strength.

Hecate sobs against him, weeps for the goddess who was once a friend. Part of him is numb, chilled by the seemingly casual way that Kali has been killed, part of him burns with anger directed at the goddess in his arms. Hecate had no right to simply slaughter Kali, no right to turn against one of their own in this way after all the death that has occurred this day. Yet he remembers what it was like to be held inside of her, to be utterly surrounded by Hecate's essence as she fought to save him.

Kali was not slaughtered out of vengeance or rage. Kali was killed in a crystal clear moment of necessity, when Hecate had been aware that to allow the other goddess to remain would mean the death of them both. They will need to talk about it, one day, when they are both recovered and the world is safe for another thousand years, but it is not something that they need to do now. For now all they need to do is go back to their safe house, for now all they need to do is rest and reassure one another that they are safe and well.

If he catches a glimpse of a half familiar face as they both leave the motel he does not mention it. If he feels the brief caress of love and the swelling of his grace within him until it becomes that which is once was he give no indication of it.

His Father works in mysterious ways, and whether Hecate brought him back or He did is not Gabriel's concern. His concern is entirely tied to the goddess that he holds close. His concern is that they do not waste a moment of the time that they have tried to give to the world.

"Hey, Hecate, how do you feel about kids?"

Her brilliant, if tired, smile is all the answer that he needs to see.

_Fin_.

_I actually don't quite know what I'm going to do with myself now._

_Artemis_


End file.
